A Cold and Broken Hallelujah
by StrawberryBubble
Summary: After 2 years of being held captive by a sadistic man, a traumatized Spencer Reid is finally found and reunited with the team. However, this UnSub has no intentions of letting Reid get away, and the team soon finds that Reid has been caught up in something far bigger and more dangerous than they initially thought. Reidcentric. WARNINGS ARE FIRST THING INSIDE. CHAPTER 30 UP!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: NOTE: This is slightly AU; S****pencer was never kidnapped in Season 2. This doesn't really fit anywhere on the series' timeline, either, although Gideon has left, and Emily is apart of the team, and Reid is 24 at the very beginning. **

**Please _do not_ read if Reid angst and hurt/comfort without much comfort (at first) is a problem for you! **

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**Reviews/Feedback on what I can do better would be great! Thanks! :)**

**WARNINGS:** **Strong language throughout. There will be _adult_ content and themes, such as non-con/rape, child abuse, murder, human trafficking/sexual slavery, drug use, severe mental conditioning, and PTSD. Nothing will _ever_ be explicitly written (it will remain T-Rated), and individual chapter warnings will_ always_ be put when needed, but if the overall subject matter is not your cup of tea, please _do not_ read! :)**

_**xxx**_

_"They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now."_

― Edna St. Vincent Millay

**1.**

August 16th

_I'm so scared. I'm scared, angry, and I'm sad…I'm so sad, Spence. I don't even keep a journal; I don't know what I'm doing. I just can't sleep...just like every other night so far. Maybe I'll just get this all out and feel better. Maybe? But we've been up for what seems like months. Ever since the morning you were just...gone. Taken from us. Randomly. Out of the blue. Unfairly. It's been confirmed that it was an abduction...but we already knew that. We found a fingerprint in...in your blood. Your apartment, god, the blood...not enough that you would've...but you must've been hurt. You...No. No, fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck it all. Fuck everything, THIS WAS A STUPID IDEA! Just come home! Please!_

_Please. Please come home._

September 15th

_It's your birthday. You're 25 now. Where are you? We would've made a cake, like always. Garcia always makes the most amazing cakes. But you know that._

September 20th

_Two months. You've been gone two months, and it feels like two hundred years. We're still looking. You know we're never going to give up, right? Not ever. Not until we find you. And we're gonna find you. We are. Not a single one of us believes anything less._

_You're missing a lot already, you know. We had our first case since...well, we had a case last week. A series of (what first appeared to be random) drownings ended with an emotionally compromised twenty year old kid being brought into custody. Turns out, when he was in high school, he was bullied almost everyday (not to mention neglected at home), and at some point, his tormentors almost drowned him in the canal behind the place. Who were the victims? Yep, you guessed it. All 4 (almost 5, but we got there in time!) who had been apart of that incident. Thank Garcia, as always, for the background information._

_Would have been easier with you._

September 21st

_Morgan asked me what I was doing yesterday. I told him I'd started a journal of a sort...of letters to you. Nothing, really. Just something to cope. His expression told me he was interested, even if he didn't say anything else. I think I'm going to leave this on his desk tomorrow morning. Whether he decides to write or not, maybe it'll make him feel better. Not that I've written much, either. It's been hard keeping up with writing about something I don't want to think about. Not you, Spence. I always want to think about you. Always. I mean...you know what I mean._

_God, I miss you. I miss you more than anything._

September 22nd

_I'm sorry Reid, JJ...I can't._

November 30th

_I thought I saw you today. I was more sure of it than I was last time, or the time before that. Or the time before that._

_I didn't really see you today._

December 24th

_No one will be celebrating much of a Christmas this year. Remember when we all went to Garcia's last year for that party she threw? Remember how you got a rash on your forehead from the fabric of the Santa hats, and Morgan teased you about how he thought it looked like a Christmas tree? Did I ever tell you it kind of did? It really kind of did. Oh, and Rossi practically knocking the entire punch bowl on himself? God, he could never wear that shirt again! And of course, him and Garcia cooking, because well, if any of us did it, we'd burn the place down. But point is, it was amazing. Will is just about the pickiest person ever (though he would never admit it) when it comes to food, but clearly even he can recognize a masterpiece of a meal when he sees one!_

_Anyway. Merry Christmas, Reid._

_I wish you'd come back and be our present._

January 2nd

_Happy New year, Pretty Boy. Though it ain't happy._

_-DM_

January 25th

_So we've been recently notified that there's been other kidnappings. One every month and a half or so, since June 21st. No witnesses. All children. One of them is a girl who's only ten. No one is entirely sure if they're related to yours, or really if they're even related to each other. Kids go missing, unfortunately, all the time. And you're so much older than any of them...why would they want you if they were looking for children? But it does seem to have been in a sort of line...you here, the second a state over, all the way to Illinois where the rest of them have been taken, and so until something steers them away from that conclusion, they're investigating it all as the same unsub. A male, white, forties to mid fifties. Someone who's clearly good around families, who looks non-threatening...but, of course, is._

_The good news is, no one has found any of their bodies._

_So where ARE you, Spence? God, I hope you're okay. It's eating me alive not knowing._

February 15th

_Hey, Kid. Where are you, huh? JJ needs a little charming. Will forgot what yesterday was. You'd get her some flowers, wouldn't you? Roses, no doubt. 'Cause you're like that._

_-DM_

_(Morgan, Will did give me flowers! I mean, like, a couple days ago. It was in advance!)_

_(Oh, you hear that, Reid? In advance. Like being fashionably late, but...romantically early.)_

March 2nd

_Well, Pretty Boy, it's me again. JJ's decided to leave this at the bureau as...I don't know. Therapy, maybe. None of us went very long to the one that was offered. "Let's talk about exactly what you don't want to talk about while I sit here and stare you down." Yeah. Sure. Helpful. Anyway, she left a note on the top of the binder she's putting all of these entries in. Says, 'Dear Reid.' In a way, it's kind of like you're gonna come in tomorrow and see it. But you're not. And that's real upsetting, to say the least._

_-DM_

April 16th

_Everyone misses you. We haven't given up, and we won't._

_(Reid, look, that's Hotch's handwriting. He does have a heart. -DM)_

April 25th

_Come home, genius. It just ain't the same without you._

_-Dave_

June 2nd

_Hey there, Spencer. I've been thinking about writing in this for a while now, since JJ told us what it was, but...I don't know. It's very hard to think about. We all miss you so much; it hasn't been the same...and it won't be until you get back._

_No real leads on any of the kidnappings so far. Lots of new cases, as always, but...we're still focused on the old. They've all been so...well planned out. Honestly, the only scene that left anything short of a brokenhearted family was yours. I wish the fingerprint had led us somewhere. It's almost impossible how good this guy is. How bad, I mean. But how...professional. It's disgusting._

_And even more disgusting is what could be happening...why the kids were taken. But you? Why you? You are, in a lucky sort of way, too old for what most people would go for if this is all about trafficking, which, we hope to God it's not. That seems to be what a lot of the agents on the case think, however. But that can't be right. Anything else. Anything._

_We're all trying, Reid. You never leave our minds. No one has laid a hand on your desk. No one else has been in your apartment, other than to sweep through it all again. When you come back, everything will be the same for you._

_Just hold on, okay? We're going to find you. We love you. So much._

_-Emily_

July 4th

_Come back, sweetness. The fireworks could never be as intense as the hurt in my heart._

_Your very favorite computer whiz,_  
_Penelope_

July 20th

_Well, here we are. The twentieth. One year later. We've survived an entire year without you. Barely. I can't believe it's been this long already—I can't believe it's only been this long. It feels like it's been thirty years. Some days are easier than others; and then some...well, some days are harder. Some almost too hard. God, I miss you. We all do, I mean. It's not just me. It's taken this long to even get back to our normal selves...not that we're really back, but...you know. Occasionally, we can have a lightheaded conversation about something. Usually it's while the adrenaline is still pumping right after a successful case. Other times we can't, and don't for days. This job is a constant reminder, one we can't escape. I still haven't slept a full night through. Maybe none of us have._

_I mentioned your name yesterday. It's the first time out of the blue that I can remember any of us doing it. We just finished up a case in Atlanta—an executive was murdered, his daughter kidnapped. Don't worry, she's okay. We found her just in time, even though it was pretty touch-and-go for a while. But her room—wow, Spence, you should've seen it. Star Trek posters everywhere; a geek's paradise. That's what I said, on the plane back. Only I said "Spence's paradise" instead. Simple slip of the tongue; not hard when you're always on our mind. But there was this moment where…no one got that look, that look, that…awful look, when we start feeling that emptiness inside again, the one that sucks all the air out of our lungs and stops our hearts for a minute. Some of them almost smiled. I smiled. I smiled because I was thinking about your room as a kid. What did it look like, huh? Like hers? Or was it just a ton of bookshelves covering every inch of the wall, filled up with physiology and technology textbooks in, what, Latin? Probably a mix of both, right? I would ask you if you were here._

_But you're not. You're still not here, so get your stupid fucking self back so I can ask you that stupid fucking question, okay? Please? Spence, please. Please come back. Oh god, I'm getting tears all over the page again. Sorry._

_Love,  
JJ_

August 14th

_Well, this thing was just looking like it needed a little loving over in its spot by the coffee machine. Besides, all I've got is paperwork to file, so I thought hey, I haven't written in a long while. I also haven't slept, so bare with me. There will probably be some shit that don't make sense._

_It's been a pretty boring few months, though, honestly. Slow. Very slow. I saw JJ covered the basics of our last big case—that sure was something. The less details, the better. Don't need more depressing shit, right Kid?_

_Oh who am I kidding, every one of these pages is depressing shit. We've almost filled an entire binder in one year, all depressing shit! A few pages (or more than a few, maybe) never made in it in here. I think sometimes we say things we end up wishing we hadn't. __Only unlike in real life, we can take it back before you hear it. Other reasons, too, maybe. Maybe we wrote too much and didn't feel like adding a novel to take up space. Either way, I'm pretty sure no one threw them out, though. I didn't._

_But that's how you know we care__. I think it's pretty great that all of us have written, even Hotch. Yeah, even Hotch! You heard me. I think I added a note to it. I think he thinks that, because he didn't sign it, he's fooling us. You're gonna have to break the news to him._

_Oh, speak of the devil. He's waving us all to come into the conference room. I'm sure JJ will fill you in when we get back._

_Talk to you again soon, Pretty Boy.  
-DM_

September 15th

_Happy 26th Birthday, Spencer._

_Love,  
all of us._

January 1st

_Happy New Year, Reid. We miss you. Miss you a lot. Of course, just like before, it's not very happy without you._

_Also—_

_(Garcia, I swear to God, I knew you were gonna do something like that. Don't make me hurt you, baby girl.)_

_Back in pen so our hungover friend Derek can't erase it, as I, too, knew he was going to do that, and, as I was saying, you should've seen him last night. We all went out for a drink, you know, as we do. He went for drinkS. He also proceeded to join karaoke night. He might try to tell you he didn't._

_Ohhhh, but I filmed it._

_In HD._

_Love,  
Penelope_

_(Reid, if she ever tries to show you that video, burn it! I'm serious! Don't watch it!)_

_(Watch it, Reid. He sang Madonna. –Dave)_

_(Reid, get your ass back here, I need a right-hand man for when I take my revenge.)_

March 19th

_Cases are all going well. There have been a few we could've solved much quicker had you been here._

_There have been a lot, actually. It's been hard. It's not getting any easier. I don't think anyone expects it to, however._

_-Hotch_

April 1st

_Spence, guess what? I'm pregnant! Isn't it great? Will and I are hoping for a little boy. No names in mind yet, it's only been a month (hey, I didn't tell anyone else until now either; we were being thoroughly sure!) but we should probably get on that, huh? I think Alexander is a nice name. That was my grandfather's name. But who knows?_

_Maybe you'll be back before s/he's due on November 4th. I hope you are. I hope you're back tomorrow. I was hoping you would be back last week...I was hoping you would be back an hour after you were gone._

_Love,  
JJ_

_P.S. I just realized what the date was; Morgan thought I was kidding! But I'm not. It's one of the only good things that have happened so far..._

April 8th

_Oh, Reid. There's a new exhibit at the science museum, and it's all about the solar system. It's got the planets hanging from the ceiling and everything. Aaron brought Jack to it; they got pictures, a few specifically for you of the overall thing. You told us how much you liked astronomy and the likes once. Of course, you like it all, don't you? Yeah. I'm sure there'll be something else there when you come back though._

_-Dave_

April 15th

_Reid, I'm serious, get your ass back. This isn't okay anymore. Not that it ever was, but..._

_I miss you so much. I cried myself to sleep last night for the first time in a while. I thought I was starting to be a little bit better, a little bit okay. But I'm not._

_I love you, Spencer. Please be okay._

_Love,  
JJ_

May 1st

_They found the body of one of the abducted children. We're scared to death, Reid._

_JJ_

July 20th

_Two years now. That's too long. Somehow, it's getting harder to let you cross our minds. It hurts. So much. And it hurts even more not knowing when this torment will end, for any of us...for you._

_Missing you more every day,  
__-Emily_

_**xxx**_

August 17th  
5:03am

_Ring. Ring._

"Mm...Morgan, there had better be a reason you're calling me this early, otherwise you're gonna get a sneak preview of the hormonal rage Will's been dealing with. And, trust me, that is _not _something you want."

"JJ..."

"What is it?"

"They found him. He's alive."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, this got such a positive response, I'm so glad! Although I do always reply to reviews individually, thank you all for taking the time to do so, and also favorite/story alert it! I hope you continue to give me feedback, it's always lovely to see. :)**

**And that being said, I hope you enjoy the next chapter here!**

**_xxx_**

_"It seems the more we know, the less we believe."_

— J.S.B. Morse

**2.**

_"They found him. He's alive."_

When JJ heard those words, the same words she'd been praying every night for over two years for, she'd just about fainted. Her stomach dropped through the floor, she literally forgot how to breathe, and she couldn't say anything for a good fifteen seconds, even as Will questioned her worriedly. Finally, she managed to choke out, "Spence?" because she could not possibly handle any further disappointment. Maybe she didn't even want to know the answer.

To her relief, Morgan said, "Yes. Reid. He's in Chicago."

Fucking _Chicago, _of all places. "What—how—I don't under—"

"I know, I know. Meet us at the jet, okay? We leave in thirty."

JJ simply dropped the phone back in its place and then stared at Will, open-mouthed. He'd heard the name she had mentioned, and he said, "Is it him?"

"I...I don't know," she admitted, because after so long...how could she be certain? "I have to go."

"Of course..." He got up as she did, taking her arm to slow her down for a moment. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no." she said quickly. "We're gonna come back as soon as we can."

"Okay. Take as much time as you need." He pulled her into a kiss. "I love you. Be careful, you hear?"

JJ nodded, still numb, and then exited the room. Will sat down on the side of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, hearing JJ fumbling in the hall to find her go-bag, and then he sent a plea to whatever higher power there was that she would not be letdown by the trip.

She, along with the rest of the team, were already in the air when the sun began to rise, and for the most part it was a silent flight. A few times, one of them would vaguely look as if they wanted to speak, although they never did. Morgan fiddled with his MP3 player, never turning it on. Garcia nervously twisted one of her bracelets, jumping when the string broke and the beads clattered to the floor, not bothering to pick them up, simply staring down at them as if they were some foreign objects she had never seen before. Rossi, Hotch, and Prentiss sat at the table they usually played cards on, but now they were simply staring at it, not knowing where else to put their eyes. And JJ stared hazily out the window, hardly blinking, as if in a dream; and she wasn't so sure she wasn't.

"When we land," Hotch finally said, just as solemn as ever, about twenty minutes before they arrived, "We're going to the main Chicago PD precinct." He paused, pursing his lips. "Reid is being held there...for interrogation."

"Wait a minute, what?" Emily whipped her head towards him, dumbfounded. "On what charge?"

"Kidnapping." Rossi was the one who answered, not meeting any of their eyes.

"You're kidding me, right?" Morgan tossed his music player onto the empty seat next to him and threw his hands up. "C'mon. On what proof?"

Hotch shook his head once. "On the proof that he was found with seven of the sixteen children who've gone missing since he disappeared."

"Since he was _abducted,_" JJ corrected, angrily. "How the hell do they think he—"

"They're not entirely sure he _was _abducted," said Rossi, slowly. "They sent officers out to review the crime scene again, but I doubt they'll find anything to convince themselves otherwise. They've got a...well, the head of the case is...tough, to put it nicely."

Garcia looked absolutely heartbroken. "After everything he's already been through..."

"And another thing," Rossi continued, seeming hesitant. "From what we understand...he isn't talking."

"Well, what the hell does that mean?" JJ demanded, sitting up straight.

"What it means," Hotch replied, "is that he isn't defending himself. He's refusing to cooperate with the interrogation, which, to say the least, is not helping his case."

"There shouldn't be one," JJ grumbled, and then said it again, much louder, once they'd arrived at the precinct, greeted by a short, fit man who never got a single word out.

"This is ridiculous!"

"What are you doin', man? He's been through enough!"

"This has to be illegal!"

"Hey." Hotch brought his team to silence with one sternly spoken word, and then hastily introduced them all.

"Detective Brown," the man finally said, looking just a bit pissed off, though his voice remained steady and did not give anything away. "Main investigator for this case."

"Case." Prentiss repeated quietly, venomously, and Hotch cleared his throat. "Yes. Dr. Spencer Reid. He's part of our team."

"That's what they told me. That's why you were called."

"That's our _friend_," Garcia said, "who's been missing for two years, who is innocent, and...who we would really appreciate being able to see." Her tone, which had started out rough and assertive, trailed off into what was (embarrassingly) almost a beg.

"If you wouldn't mind," Rossi added, in a way that made it sound like anything but a suggestion.

Brown exhaled sharply through his nose, obviously displeased to have to deal with them. "He's in Holding Room Four. I'll bring you to—"

JJ interrupted him with a snappy, "We've got it," and so he stepped aside to allow them passage. Then, he turned to watch them go, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

When they saw Spencer, at long last—and it really was him, to their disbelief—through the door's small window, sitting in the chair with his arms around himself like he was cold, they paused, startled. He was so...thin, impossibly more so than he had been. He was wearing a dirty long sleeved shirt, pants with holes at the knees, and he seemed sick, tired, and more than anything afraid...he even seemed to be shaking slightly. Spencer had always been a nervous kid, but he had never looked like this; it was frightening.

"Wait, wait." Emily said suddenly, holding her hand up. "What if...?"

"It's only been two years," Morgan said, because he needed to believe it, and maybe if he said it aloud, he would. "He's gonna remember."

"I think she's talking about the...the stress of us all going in at once," Rossi replied, and Hotch agreed with a nod.

"Can...maybe I should go in," JJ murmured, and then, without waiting for a response, she opened the door, very slowly.

Reid lowered his head even more, shaking it, and JJ realized he thought she was the detective, here to harass him further. "Spence?" she said softly, carefully, and after a second of hesitation, Reid looked up, his eyes widening after a moment or two of staring. Recognition visibly clicked, and his mouth dropped open.

"Hey." JJ smiled, coming over to sit beside him on the table. She wanted so badly to hug him, tightly, until he was okay again, but when she reached out to touch his hair, matted and now shoulder-length, he immediately, instinctively flinched away. He leaned back, hands grasping the side of the table, but he was still staring at her, and JJ was hoping to see the old Reid somewhere in his darkened eyes.

She didn't.

"I'm sorry...it's just...it's so good to see you," she said, awkwardly. "Is it okay if the others come in?"

Reid nodded; his knuckles had turned white from how tight his grip was. She couldn't quite read his expression, though he certainly wasn't in opposition. She turned her head towards the door and nodded, and when it opened, revealing Garcia first and then the rest behind her, Reid jerked his attention over to them as if he hadn't just been told they were coming in. JJ felt sick; he was _terrified_.

"Reid..." Garcia breathed out. "Hey..."

Looking more than a little intimidated as they all entered, he shrank back, which they assumed meant he'd decided they shouldn't get any closer. They stopped, individually greeting him, each time hoping that he'd respond. Instead, in an action that was better than that, Reid's mouth twitched up, and then he was smiling—a very, very small and sad one, but a smile all the same. JJ grinned hugely, forgetting what had happened moments before in her overwhelming giddiness, putting her hand on his shoulder. He yelped and scooted the chair back, breathing hard, protectively putting his arms around himself again.

"Spencer, Spence, I'm so sorry!" she babbled, trying to make it right and yet not sure she could. She jumped off the table and backed up, giving him his space. "It's okay, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I'm sorry."

Reid nodded vigorously, agreeing physically but definitely not mentally; he stared off to the side, rocking a bit, his fists clenched in his shirt.

"He hasn't said a word since we found him," Brown's voice came from behind the group, and they parted so he could get through. Reid shuddered violently at his voice, unnoticed by the rest.

"And where was that exactly?" Prentiss asked, accusingly, and Brown shrugged. "A call came in around three AM, about the sound of a child crying, so we checked it out and found them under the local park's pavilion. He wouldn't let any of us near the children, let alone himself. He had to be sedated before they could even get him in the ambulance."

"Were the children injured?"

"Bruises, scars, but nothing too bad or recent."

"And you still think he's your guy?"

Brown held up the case file. "There are children still missing. He's the only one we have who knows where they are. We're getting the kids in after a day or two to recover."

"And he doesn't need that?" JJ demanded, pointing to Reid, who was watching them absentmindedly, eyes glassy, almost looking through them.

Brown forced out a smile. "If you don't mind, agents..."

"We do!" Garcia began, irritated, but Hotch interrupted her. "We're not leaving the precinct."

"Wouldn't have it any other way. We'll find you someplace you can stay...out of the way."

JJ shot the man a nasty look, but after a moment he'd gotten his wish of being alone with his suspect again, and he closed the door behind them.

"Now," he said, sitting down and clasping his hands together over the folder. Reid nervously chewed on his lip, eyes cast down, weary.

"Where did we leave off?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: T****HANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! I appreciate it more than you could know :)**

_**xxx**_

_"To communicate through silence is a link between the thoughts of man."_

— Marcel Marceau

**3.**

"Everything about this place is awful. Even the coffee."

Morgan lifted his hand in a gesture of agreement towards Prentiss as she placed her mug back onto the desk, her features twisted up in disgust. They'd been given a conference room to stay in for now (certainly out of the way; it was almost in the back of the place) in which they had already been discussing how they would prove Reid's innocence. Garcia had been tapping away at her laptop, finding everything she could about the kidnappings, Morgan watching over her shoulder. Hotch, who had never been one for pacing, was doing just that by the window, a hand on his chin, in thought.

"They can't seriously believe he took all these kids," Morgan said, shaking his head, and JJ scoffed. "Even if they don't, they're not letting him go until he tells them where the others are."

"So...why hasn't he?"

Rossi rubbed at his beard and squinted. "He may not be able to."

"Trauma, PTSD, maybe." Prentiss agreed. "Selective mutism? Progressive, even?"

"I thought that only affected children," Morgan said, glancing up at last, and she shook her head, crossing her legs as she sat. "It's rare in adults, but not impossible. Especially after two years of...Well, two years is a long time, and a lot could have happened to cause it."

"If that's true," Hotch spoke up, stilling himself, placing his hands on the table and leaning on it, "then it's completely up to this team to speak for him. We need to build a stronger case than they have, and quickly."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Morgan took a deep breath. "We can try to get something from him...if not, then maybe from the kids comin' in."

Hotch nodded. "Good. Morgan, I want you to go in after Detective Brown is done. Try to get through the communication barrier somehow. The rest of us need to be in here, casing each of the kidnappings as if they just happened. We've got even less time than we usually would to do this. Let's get to work."

**_xxx_**

Brown was in the room an hour and forty minutes before at last he called it quits. Reid relaxed, just a bit, when he was left alone, because of course, alone was safer. He licked at his chapped lips and fidgeted uncomfortably. He needed a break, and needed water even more. No one had offered him either. He couldn't ask—no, he was never allowed to do that. He was either rewarded with what he needed, or he went without whatever it was. He had to be good; that was hard when he was being asked impossible things. He couldn't talk; he wasn't supposed to. He wondered if he still knew how, if his voice still worked for more than the limited vocabulary he'd used over the past years. He'd practically forgotten what it sounded like. But he could write—he knew that. That's how he had communicated with the kids. But then...no one had offered him a pen, either.

The door opened again a minute or two later, and Morgan entered. Reid watched him warily, wondering if he was here to bombard him with questions, too.

_Morgan. Derek Morgan. _He liked Morgan. Yes, he remembered that. He liked them all. They were nice; they were his family. They wouldn't hurt him. They wouldn't...right?

"It's great to see you, Kid." Morgan said after a long pause, sitting across from him. He smiled, probably hoping Reid would do the same, but the younger only glanced downwards again. "We're real glad you're okay."

_Am I okay?_

Morgan sighed. "What happened to you?" he asked, not really expecting a response. "Are you not talking because you're...afraid of something? Of someone?"

Reid didn't know what to do. He could have confirmed or denied the statement with his head, but he didn't. That would only prompt more questions, more questions he didn't want to answer. All he really wanted to do was sleep...His mind was too foggy to be of much help, thanks to the drugs he'd been given last night. The effects lingered, seeming to be doing anything but wearing off as they were supposed to. He wasn't afraid, anyway; he was _terrified_. And even that seemed too weak a word to describe what he was feeling, what he had been feeling for years, what he didn't believe he would ever _stop _feeling.

"If I got you a pen," Morgan began, hesitantly, "would you be able to...you know...write to me?"

Reid met his gaze for a minute, and he didn't even need to nod before Morgan's eyes lit up. "Yeah? Hold—hold on." He stood and disappeared, returning a second later with a pad of paper and a pen. He placed them in front of Reid, who didn't move for a very long time. Morgan had started wondering if he'd suspected wrong when finally Reid took the utensil between shaking fingers and began to write.

_Help me._

Morgan felt his heart stop. "We're trying, Kid, we are. But it would help if you defended yourself, too. Brown is really convinced you did it."

_I didn't._

"I know. We all know. And we're gonna do everything we can to prove it."

_I'm sorry._

"For what?"

_Everything else._

A little unnerved at the statement, Morgan stammered, "E-everything else?"

Reid stared at the paper for a while, and then replied with, _Water, please?_

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll get you some water."

Reid was relieved that the first request he'd dared to make was accepted, but uncertainty kept him from asking another. _Shut up! _he heard, every time he thought about opening his mouth, or asking anything of anyone. _Shut up! Don't ask! Shut up! Don't speak!_

Derek seemed to sense his inner turmoil, and so he questioned, "Are you hungry? Hell, you must be. Do you want something?"

Reid nodded, fidgeting with his hands under the table.

"...Anything else?"

The younger gave a small nod, and it really didn't take a professional to figure out where the one-sided conversation was going. "Bathroom?"

Again, Reid non-verbally agreed, and so Morgan waved towards the door. "Okay. C'mon."

Unfortunately, to get to said destination, they had to walk past half the precinct, who intently watched them the whole way. Their confused yet suspicious expressions struck Reid harder than any blow could, and the moment he ducked into the tiny room, he locked it and began to cry. Morgan heard him gasp in a pained breath as he shut the door, and he winced. He felt suddenly, almost, as if he didn't want to know what Reid had been through. No matter how much he'd seen in his years of being an agent, this he simply didn't know if he could handle.

He stopped Emily as she was walking past, probably to get something that tasted better than the coffee, and smiled a bit. "I got him to talk."

"Really?"

"Well, write. A little. Maybe more once he's feeling better. Speaking of," he pointed at the bathroom, "can you take him back when he's done while I go get him something to eat?"

"Of course," Prentiss nodded at him, and then leaned up against the wall. When Reid had been in there for almost fifteen minutes, something Prentiss wrote off as him getting himself together (but was beginning to wonder if she should be concerned), she heard Brown storming down the hall, demanding to know where his suspect was. His otherwise pale face was flushed considerably, and in his clenched fist he held a crumpled piece of paper. She rolled her eyes and held her hand out to get his attention. "Over here."

The detective came over and furiously began pounding on the door. "Time to get out!"

"Hey, please, come on, really?" she began, exasperated, and Brown turned to her, pissed, showing her the paper that Reid had written on. "He's been holding out on me, Agent."

"Listen, he's exhausted, he's been through more than you can imagine, and—"

"Are you sure? Was he a victim? Or an accomplice?"

Reid carefully opened the door, peering out fearfully at the man, his eyes red and swollen, and she raised her eyebrows. "Look at him! Does he really look like a criminal to you?"

"Everyone looks like a criminal to me," the man growled. He grabbed Reid's wrist, inciting a shrill shriek from him as he struggled to pull away, and then Brown shoved him face-first against the wall in order to handcuff him. The younger was crying again, openly, and Emily was utterly fuming. "What the hell are you doing?"

Brown dragged him back to his feet and shrugged. "He was trying to escape." He sneered at her. "This is not your case, nor is it your investigation. You have no reason to be here."

"That's my _friend!_"

"And my number one suspect. If you'll excuse me."

Emily had no choice but to step out of the way, appalled with this man's behavior.

"Move. Stop crying." Brown demanded, and Reid, who'd already quieted himself, instantly, submissively, obeyed. And while the detective was fastening his left hand to the hook under the table back in the tiny room, Reid was trembling, dreading what would come next. They were alone, Reid was now restrained—he couldn't fight. Not that he was supposed to do that anyway. He was meant to be controlled, and if this man would be next to do so, then it was his fault for being so problematic. It always was. This was his prize for surviving. This was what he was, now, what he would be for the rest of his life.

To his relief, however, Brown merely sat back down and began to stare at him. "You know, this makes me even more convinced. You've been explicitly refusing to cooperate, and—what's that face? Why do you look so shocked?" He practically threw the paper and pen at him, and Reid let out a whimper that had the detective rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time. "Write. Answer. Now."

Hesitantly, Reid did so. _I'm innocent._

"Oh! _Are_ you now?"

_Yes._

"Why the hell haven't you said anything until now?"

_You didn't give me a pen._

Brown actually twitched. "That's what words are for, boy."

Reid flinched, recovering quickly. _I'm sorry. I don't know anything._

"Yes, you do. Spending two years with someone, you learn a lot about them."

_No._

"Yes! Listen, I'm not falling for this bullshit anymore. I'll keep you here for a week if I have to, and you'll stay right there, handcuffed, until you give me what I want. Are you comfortable? You don't look like you are."

Reid paused for a moment, and then; _Where are the kids I was with?  
_

"Let's talk about you."

_Please._

"Really? Please? Please what?"

_Please, sir._

Brown frowned at the paper; that hadn't been what he'd meant, but he assumed the other was asking about the children's conditions, and so he huffed out a breath of annoyance and answered, only because he wanted to get it over with. "They're safe. Back with their families, where they belong. Where they _all_ belong." He gave Reid a once-over. "You care a lot about them?"

_Yes._

"Did you look after them?"

_Yes._

"So you were a partner?"

_No!_

"Another hostage?"

The younger nodded, very slowly, and the detective rubbed at his face. "There are still children missing. Eight, to be exact. In the last two years, sixteen children were taken. Did you help in any of those abductions?"

Reid put the pen down and didn't answer.

"Did you, or did you not, assist this man in abducting them? A simple question, really, with a simple answer."

Reid didn't reply, didn't even seem to be listening, his mind clearly somewhere else, and so, with a grunt, Brown opened the file and started writing. Reid snapped back to himself and sloppily, hurriedly scribbled down, _No, I didn't!__  
_

"Mm." Brown wouldn't even look; he clearly couldn't care less about some half-assed protest. Reid shoved the paper into the other's line of sight, underlining his words, and Brown stood. "I'm going to bring you a confession sheet, which you are going to sign. Understand?"

Enraged, both by the man and his own inability to speak, Reid threw the pen onto the table as hard as he could. It bounced off, nearly hitting the detective, and Brown whipped around. "Did you really just throw that at me?"

Reid held his hand out and shook his head, desperately. Why, why, _why _had he done that? He didn't want to be hurt anymore, so why the hell did he keep taking chances by doing shit like that? He was going to be punished now, for sure, and he was completely to blame, as always._Sorry! _his lips formed the word but no sound came out. Brown took a single, jerky step forward, and Reid moaned, curling himself up against the table, preparing himself for the blows...that never came. He heard footsteps, dared to look up—

"Just getting my pen back," Brown said, but in all honesty he had known exactly what he was doing. Reid struggled to slow his breaths as the man left right as Derek was coming back in, scowling. "You okay, Kid?" he asked once they were alone. "Emily told me what happened. The guy's a real charmer, huh?"

Reid shook his head, and then tilted it at the brown bag the other agent was holding, because it smelt like heaven and he really, _really _wanted it. Morgan managed a smile and handed it over, along with the water he'd previously asked for, all of which Reid gratefully took and downed in record time.

"Slow down there," Morgan laughed softly, "You don't want to choke."

Reid didn't seem to care, however, and once he was done, he looked at Morgan and smiled, almost looking like himself again, yet still somehow, understandably, off. It was amazing progress from the last time Morgan had seem him though, and he would take anything at this point. The younger did a very small writing motion with his hand, and when Derek handed him the pen he'd kept in his pocket, Reid wrote a thanks along with something else that broke the other's heart.

_I'd never thought I'd see you all again._

"Neither did we," he replied, solemnly, and the fact that he couldn't affectionately ruffle the kid's hair like he always had hurt just as much as anything. He wondered if he would ever be able to do that again, or if any of them would be able to show their love for him in general again...if he had been shown any at all in the past two years. "Neither did we."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for your support! Virtual hugs and cookies (or muffins, if you prefer) all around. Hope this next chapter is enjoyed as much as the others! Reviews are always super duper appreciated :)**

_**xxx**_

_"The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you'd ever left behind riding on your shoulders."_

― Paolo Bacigalupi**  
**

**4.**

Morgan had talked a lot about the past two years in the hour he'd remained in the room, about how much they had searched, how they had never given up, and how they'd always had a hope that he was still older agent had also mentioned how Spencer's mother had been just as sick with worry as the rest of them, probably even more so, and that they had already notified her about him being found alive. Reid seemed...uncomfortable with that subject, to say the least, and to Morgan's surprise, he shook his head when asked if he would want to visit her after this all was over. And it wasn't that Reid didn't want to see her―he did, more than anything. He had missed her just as much as any of the rest of them.

But she would not want to see him, especially not like this, not after what he'd done, what he had become, what he had seen...He was dirty now, inside and out, and his mother would no longer want him once the truth came out. And the truth would come out; it always did. It was only a matter of time before she knew, before the rest of the team knew. They wouldn't want to protect him then; they wouldn't want anything to do with him. He would be better off back with...back where he had been for the last twenty-four, almost twenty-five months.

Clearly only distressing Reid after a while, Morgan chose to leave as Reid's eyes started drooping, and it took only minutes before he put his head down on his arm and closed his eyes totally, hiding his tears.

"Poor thing's exhausted," Garcia said as they watched through the other side of the glass. She sighed after a moment and rubbed her face while Rossi held back a yawn.

"We all are," Hotch said, and he glanced at his watch. "It's late. We should all try to get some rest back at the hotel."

"I'm staying," JJ immediately replied, firmly, and Prentiss touched her shoulder. "You need sleep, too, you know."

"Go ahead." JJ nodded at them. "I'll catch up."

"Alright." Hotch turned around and looked at the group. "We meet back here at eight. I talked with the sheriff; the first child is coming in in the morning.

They all agreed, said goodnight to JJ, and then she was alone. She clasped her hands over her belly, smiling as she felt her baby kick; just a few more months and she would finally be able to greet the he or she that she was already so very in love with...the he or she that she still, aggravatingly enough, did not have a name for. Maybe she just hadn't thought of the right one, the one that would just click and stay with her until it got the chance to be the first thing this baby would have all their own. She suddenly missed Will terribly, and so she called to update him, both on the team and on Reid.

"I'm glad he's okay," Will said after she had filled him in. "But...are you?"

JJ licked her dry lips and hummed. "I will be when we get him out of here. He's handcuffed to a table, for God's sake."

"I'm sorry. You sure you don't want me there? Moral support and all, you know."

"I might take you up on that."

"You sound awfully tired. You're going to sleep soon, right?" A pause. "Jen..."

"Yeah. Yes. I am. I mean, I will."

"Can you do anything right now?"

"What?"

"With Spencer. Can you do anything else to help him right now?"

JJ let out a long breath, and as much as it pained her to say it, she reluctantly replied, "No."

"Then let yourself be rested for when you can, okay? Please? For the baby."

She chuckled. "Oh, I see. It's all about the baby."

"Both of my babies," Will said, smile audible, and JJ made a _tsk-tsk_ sound with her tongue. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. I'm gonna head off to the hotel, then. Goodnight. I love you."

"Goodnight. I love you, too."

She hauled herself to her feet, whispered, "Goodnight, Spence," and then grabbed her coat and headed out the door.

_**xxx**_

_"I'll fucking teach you to stop talking back to me, you little shit!"  
_

_"Please, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"_

_"Not yet you're not. Get your ass over here—"_

_Reid cried out when he was grabbed by his hair and dragged along to the other side of the room. He was shoved against the side of the dresser, and he heard the belt crack through the air mere seconds before it made contact with his bare back, still in agony from the last time...and the time before that. "No! Stop! I'm sorry!"_

_"One more word and I'll kill you, you hear? And them! Shut up! This is your fault! Stop crying! Stop fucking crying!"_

Reid startled awake, screaming, and fell out of the chair, striking his chin on the side of the table and biting his tongue as he did so. He cried out again, clutching his jaw with his free hand, tasting blood and barely able to keep from letting the tears constantly behind his eyes begin to fall again. The door burst open as two officers entered, demanding to know what had just happened. Reid only whimpered, pain clouding his consciousness to the point where he could hardly see, and then he shrieked again when hands were suddenly pulling at him, shaking so hard he was almost convulsing.

"Jesus, kid—" The officer who'd been trying to get him up immediately released him, noting the drops of blood on the floor before turning to the second man. "Call an ambulance!"

"No, don't." Detective Brown blocked the doorway and held up a small, clear bottle with a very light colored liquid inside, along with a small syringe. "It's just a panic attack. He had one at the hospital. They gave us this in case he had another."

"I think he hit his head," the second said, frowning, and Brown rolled his eyes, fixing up the dose. Then, kneeling beside Reid, he injected it quickly into his shoulder before he could try to jerk away and then stood. "He'll be fine. I need you two outside with the others, to protect the Grosse family from the press and whoever the hell else is out there. They should be here any minute."

The officers nodded and then left, and Brown turned his attention back to Reid, who was still trembling but beginning to catch his breath now. He was holding his chin, and a line of blood trickled out of his mouth; Brown concluded what had happened, and that it would most likely simply leave a nasty bruise. He was favoring his wrist, however, the one that was cuffed to the table, and Brown could see it was bruising, though he was far from letting him go, and so he decided to pretend he had never noticed it at all. "Breathe, Dr. Reid," he said quietly, and Reid moaned. He tugged gently on the metal keeping him from laying down, and then finally settled for maneuvering himself into a better position before weakly leaning back against the leg of the table, his eyes closed. It didn't knock him out, but he surely didn't have the strength to panic any further, nor the will.

"The first family is coming in. William Grosse is the child." Brown said after a moment, once Reid's panting had evened out and he was positive the younger could hear him. "He's requested to see you."

Reid blinked up at him wearily and nodded, and his mouth formed the word _please_.

"After we've finished questioning him." he added, and then left. Reid moaned again; his limbs weren't responding like they should have been and it was pissing him off. His arm flopped out in front of him, of absolutely no help, and though somehow he believed being back in the chair would have been more comfortable, he really didn't care enough to try. He felt a bit like he had..._that_ day. The day he'd been taken. God, he hadn't thought about that in ages. He'd been sitting on his couch...reading, probably, as if he'd ever done anything else, and then someone he had never heard had abruptly slapped a hand over his mouth from behind and painfully shoved a needle into the side of his neck. He'd ripped it out after just a second or two, but he was already dizzy before he even stood up, staggering about in an attempt to turn around. There had been someone there...just a blurry, darkened shadow at that point. And they were just..._watching_ him, apparently just waiting until he was simply dead-weight to make a move.

He'd stayed on his feet for another good minute, angry because he knew he'd locked his door and he was wondering how the fuck someone could have gotten in, stumbling to reach his cell phone. He'd gotten it in his hands, straining to remember somebody's_—anybody's_—number, when the figure struck his arm, knocking his lifeline out of his grip. He fought, then, desperate, taking whoever it was to the floor with him. They had hit the table on the way down, and the position he'd fallen in caused him to hit his arm on the side of it, giving him a good sized gash that he cried out at. There were hands over his mouth again, and he cursed himself for not screaming sooner. He kicked out, trying to reach for his cell, he'd been so close, and then...and then...

And then Reid couldn't remember anything else until he had come to in the trunk of a moving car, bound tightly and gagged, too weak to do anything even if he'd been free. He'd found himself mumbling for his friends, for his mother, like any of them could help him now, and then suddenly he'd been waking back up, in what looked like a basement or cellar, hanging from a chain connected somewhere above him by his wrists, his feet only just touching the floor enough for him to ground himself and not swing about. His arm ached terribly, but as far as he could tell, someone had bandaged it. So whoever this was didn't want him dead...at least not yet.

Unfortunately, that hadn't been at all as comforting as he wanted it to be.

It might've been hours later, or maybe a day (it was hard to keep track when he kept drifting in and out of consciousness) before someone unlocked the door up the stairs to his right and made their way down. Reid had thought about pretending to be asleep to avoid confrontation, but instead watched in horror and as a woman—smaller than him, even!—came into view, a child who he hoped was simply unconscious in her arms. He now saw that there were beds in front of him, against the other wall, previously lost in the darkness to his eyes, as she set him down upon one and covered him with a blanket. There was the sound of metal clanking against metal as she'd fastened something around his ankle, and then she'd turned around and walked over to Reid, proceeding to stroke a hand down his face and murmur, "Very good indeed."

"What's going on?" Reid had quietly tried to talk to her, but she was not interested in conversation, and began to hum a tune as she went back up the stairs.

Reid had begun to struggle then, rattling the chains loudly as he fought to free himself. "Wait! Come back! What the hell is going on? What the hell is going on?!"

The door had shut, the lock had clicked, and for some reason it was only then that he had realized how much trouble he was in. If only he'd found some way to get out, if only he'd avoided the coming years, if only, if only, _if only_...

If only the one responsible was dead, not still somewhere out there. If only Reid didn't fear for his and the other survivors lives with every breath he took, with every breath he didn't deserve to have.

If only he'd managed to save them all...

**_xxx_**

Outside the precinct, it took ten minutes to clear the group of cameras, news reporters, and the like enough that the black car could pull up, the Grosse family could get out, and then proceed inside without all the equipment in their faces...at least, for the most part. Damn media. Every other officer had been standing by the door to allow them and no one else in, and then Detective Brown greeted them, proudly declaring that he was lead on the case.

"Thank you," Caroline Grosse gave him a tearful smile. "Thank you." She took her husband, Mark, by the arm and held her son's hand.

"Of course. If you could come this way..."

"I want to see Spencer." William said, firmly, and Brown clenched his teeth, something he hoped went unnoticed.

"Sweetie," Caroline murmured, petting his hair, "we—"

"I want to see him!" William repeated, a bit more forcefully, and then Brown managed a smile. "It's okay. Come on, then."

William followed him quickly and quietly, and Brown glanced back at him once or twice. He hadn't jumped at his mother's touch (although he also hadn't seemed all too pleased with her calling him sweetie), he was speaking perfectly fine, and he looked healthy. Maybe they would be able to get somewhere with him...

Brown unlocked the room, opened it, and gestured William inside. Reid looked up, slowly, over the chair, and then his eyes went wide and he straightened up as best he could. William gave a huge smile, went over, and—to the detective's surprise—hugged him. Reid still flinched, but he put his arms around the boy anyway, allowing him to bury his head into the older's neck.

"I was real worried about you," William mumbled, and Reid nodded in agreement. He was still rigid, but he did seem to find comfort in the contact. Brown turned away, flipping through his file as something professional-looking to do, and then his eyes settled on the last paper, reading it for the third time. It was something he hadn't given to anyone else to see, a choice he'd made in order to continue his task. It was hardly his decision, anyway; he had to do what he had to do, by any means necessary.

"Are you okay?" William quietly asked, sitting next to him, and Reid nodded slowly. He winced at the motion, wiping dried blood from his bottom lip, and William shot the sharpest glare in Brown's direction that he had ever seen from someone so young as he looked over, as if he thought Brown was responsible.

"Was he part of this?" Mark suddenly asked, frowning, his fists clenched, and Brown stepped in front of them and closed the door. "He was apart of it, yes...but we don't know how yet."

"Why are we letting him be alone with my son?"

"Don't get me wrong. He fits into this somewhere. But there's evidence he took care of William and the other children; he's of no harm to them."

Caroline peered into the window, simply to be assured, and saw William smiling as he spoke unheard words. He seemed happier than she had seen him since they'd gotten him back. And the older one...he looked hardly strong enough to get to his feet, let alone do much of anything criminal.

"And there are still children missing?" Mark asked, and when Brown nodded he continued. "Why hasn't he said where they are? Where the_criminal behind this _is?"

Brown sighed, nearly answered, but then, from behind him, JJ did so instead. "Sir, we are doing the best we can to find the others, and the man behind it." She smiled sadly at them, crossing her arms gently across her chest. "But you have to understand. He's been through a lot of trauma."

"And you are?"

"Agent Jennifer Jareau, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. His name is Dr. Spencer Reid...he's with us."

"He was in the FBI?" Mark's expression was one doubt, and JJ blinked. "Is. He is."

Brown cleared his throat, gesturing towards the door. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes." Caroline gently knocked on the door and nodded her head at William when he looked up. He rolled his eyes and then turned back to Reid. "I'll come back, okay?" he said, and Reid gave him a small smile. His eyes followed the boy as he left, and then he rested his head back against the chair, eyes closed again, looking worse than he had before; tired, and...

JJ caught Brown's arm before he could follow the three. "Detective, did you give him something?"

"For his panic attack this morning, yes. Prescribed, of course."

"I'd like to see his medical examination file, if you don't mind." _Or if you do, I actually don't care,_ she didn't add.

"Excuse me," Brown ignored her, and then went off to get the others into a room they could talk in. JJ huffed out a breath of pure frustration; she'd get Garcia on that later. "Are you okay, Spence?" she asked as she went over to him, handing down the pad of paper and pen.

_I'm very thirsty._

"Okay. I'll get you some water." She sat in the chair he was beside. He looked like he was falling asleep, and so she quickly continued. "But Spence...we need to talk about what happened to you, to the kids."

Reid shook his head, just slightly, but JJ did not let it go. She couldn't any longer. "Please. I know you're tired, but work with me here. Do you remember any names?"

Forcing his eyes open, Reid weakly replied, _Her name was Marian._

"Her?!" she exclaimed, loud enough he jumped, clearly trying to control her irritation of not being told this earlier. "There were two?"

_Were. She's dead now._

"What...happened?"

_Don't know. Just dead._

"And the other was...?"

_My — _Reid froze completely, then hesitated a few moments before roughly scratching that out and continuing on a new line. _Her husband. I...we never got a name._

"In two years?"

_I'm sorry. I'm really sorry._

"It's okay; I'm not mad. Anything you can tell me helps."

_She's the one who came to my house._

"Oh, Spence..did you ever know why? Why they did it, I mean?"

_She said...they were her family._

"Family?"

Reid nodded. _I'm not sure...I think a child of hers died. Maybe set her off. There were pictures on the wall by the stairs, but I never saw him. He was around ten._

"That makes sense of the age range for most of them, but...why abduct the thirteen and fourteen-year-old, then? Why keep them all this time? And why you?"

Reid swallowed with difficulty. _She didn't know she needed the younger more, I guess. Easier to control. Didn't require as much effort.__  
_

JJ was starting to feel a bit ill, and Spencer had gone paler than the paper he was writing on. "And...he still has them?"

_I'm really, really thirsty, please._

JJ didn't blink, didn't even look away, asking for a last time, "Spence...where are the other kids?"

Reid let out a single sob, lowering his head and placing his hand over his face, and she knew then, with heartbreaking certainty, that they would not be rescuing anyone else.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I suck. Like, a _lot._ Don't hate me. Anyway, THANK YOU all yet again for your support! :)  
**

**Reviews are always _super _appreciated! :')**

**WARNINGS: Mentions/implications of (past) abuse. ****  
**

**_xxx_**

_"Which is the true nightmare; the horrific dream that you have in your sleep, or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake?" _

― Justin Alcala

**5.**

**THEN  
****(3 Days)**

_"Hey. Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?"_

_Reid frowned and sighed, disappointed when his attempt to wake the unknown boy still sleeping on the mattress across from him failed. For the third time. He kept occasionally shifting around, like he was about to come to, but each time Reid spoke to him there was no response. At least, with him moving, Reid knew he was alive. He hadn't been so sure in the beginning._

_There was a window to his left, and with that he could tell, by the light, that it was about midday, while it had been night when he'd finally come out of his drugged haze. So, a couple of days already since he'd been taken. That wasn't good. But his team would be searching for him by now...right?_

What a stupid question, _he told himself. _Of course they're looking. It's not like they'd forget about you.

_He jerked his attention towards the stairs as the door opened with a creak, and the same woman who had been there before came down the steps, smiling at him like all of this was completely normal. She had a glass of water in her hand, and as she lifted it up to his lips he kept them tightly closed, trying to turn away, and she actually chuckled. "There's nothing in it. My husband will be home soon...don't want you sleeping through that!"_

_"Uh-huh," Reid grunted, unsure how else to reply to this woman (who was clearly on her own sort of drugs), and then he reluctantly accepted the drink, relieved when it cooled his throat and made it easier to talk._

_"There you go," she said when he'd finished, still too cheerful, and he bit his lip. "Can—can you—can I go to the bathroom?"_

_She seemed hesitant, and so he added, "It's just right there. You don't have to leave. Please? I _really_ need to go."_

_"Well," she murmured, checking her watch, and then she frowned. "You're not trying to trick me now, boy, are you?"_

_"No. Please?"_

_"Alright." She nodded, dug into her pocket, and unlocked his wrists. He immediately collapsed, groaning, and then, when the woman started to help him up, he dealt the hardest blow he could manage to what he hoped was her head and shoved her away. She fell back, stunned, and he scrambled to his feet, gasping. The child on the mattress—could he carry him? No, no, he needed to phone for help._ That's_ what he needed to do._

_He sprinted up the stairs and burst out into the house, startled by how large it was, and then began frantically searching for a telephone, ripping back the curtains, praying he found someone who could help outside—and staggered back when the only thing that met his eyes was a huge wooded area that appeared to surround them on all sides. Did they even have neighbors? Where the fuck was he?_

_He shook his head in disbelief, realizing his best chance—maybe his only chance—was still to dial for help—and then there was suddenly a voice shrieking directly into his ear, and he was grabbed roughly from behind, quite literally scaring the piss out of him._

_"Oh! You disgusting little_—_" She struck him, angrily, and he cried out, trying to fight her off—a surprisingly tough feat despite her initial appearance—and then she got her hands around his throat and tackled him to the floor._

_"Son of a _bitch!_" Reid choked out, enraged, flailing his limbs, and then the front door slammed open and the women turned her head to look, distracting her enough that Reid managed to fling her off. He coughed and gasped and staggered back to his feet, watching her—and so never saw the newcomers fist coming until it hit him, sending him reeling, collapsing into the small glass table behind him, which toppled over and only added to his painful landing, though very thankfully did not break._

_He recovered long enough to blink a few times, his vision and hearing only clear enough to see the two figures, standing now, in front of him, arguing loudly about something he couldn't make out. And then, the one who had just come in noticed him, grabbed him by his hair, and slammed his head back against the floor, and this time it was made sure that Reid didn't open his eyes again for a very long time._

**NOW**

Detective Brown was the first one back in the morning, just as angry looking as always, maybe even more so. He sat down, clasped his hands, and stared intently at Reid as he jerked back to wakefulness with a gasp, flailing his arm about to protect himself from what wasn't there. He snapped out of it sooner than he had before, however, straightening himself up. His stomach growled, and his mouth was dry enough again that it hurt to swallow, and he winced.

"Problem?" Brown asked as he opened the case file and pushed it in Reid's direction. "Because honestly, I'd be happy to get you out of this room. I'd be happy to stop this nonsense. So, if you could simply confess, we could all get on with our day."

Reid picked up the pen, wrote, _I can't._ and shoved it back towards him.

"I see." Brown sighed. "Dr. Reid, are you aware of how devastated the families of these children are? No, don't close your eyes again, I'm talking to you. Are you aware of how awful they're feeling? How impossible waking up every morning has been?"

Reid nodded once, solemnly. In fact, he knew the feelings quite well.

"Then wouldn't you want to do everything you could to get their kids back to them? Or at least, give them closure?"

He was getting so very tired of this. He didn't want to admit it again; it'd been hell shaking his head enough to allow JJ to realize what had happened, and even that wasn't the half of it. Why couldn't _she _tell the man? Why did it have to be him? He couldn't say anything else about it...they would have him arrested. They would charge him. And not just that...they would want him dead. He slowly replied, _You don't want the answer, _and then placed the pen down and shook his head.

"You think you know what I want?" Brown demanded, his voice raising, and Reid could see the man was at the very end of his tolerance. "Huh?"

_No, sir...I'm sorry, sir. _he answered, because that was what he was supposed to do; resign himself when he had made someone angry, do his best to please them enough they wouldn't hurt him...at least, not too much.

"Don't tell me you're sorry," he growled, and Reid flinched. "Tell me what I want to know!" He forced out a laugh when Reid looked up at him like he hadn't any idea what it was that the detective wanted to know, because if he didn't laugh, he was going to explode from every bit of rage he'd been keeping locked away all this time. "Let's start again, shall we? Did you assist in the kidnappings?"

_No._

"Really? Because we _will _talk to all of the children, and I know they all apparently love you, but don't you think that, eventually, the truth is going to come out?"

_I didn't help! I just...I took care of them. I was nice to them. I was._

"And the woman wasn't?"

_She was nicer when she was sad._

"And the man?"

Reid simply shook his head.

"He hurt you, didn't he?" Brown suddenly said, almost silently. "I know he did. I know everything he did." Reid stared at him, wide eyed, looking like he was about to have another breakdown, and Brown nodded smoothly. "Yeah. He's a real piece of work, isn't he? So why are you protecting him and what he's done?

Reid could have laughed. _Protecting him?! How am I protecting him?!  
_

"You've only just started cooperating, what, three days later?"

_I'm so scared, _Reid wanted to write, though he didn't. His eyes watered, and he looked away. _I'm so, so, so scared. I just want this all to be over with. I want JJ. I want my mom. But no one wants _me! _ Not after everything that happened. Only He wants me now. And He always gets His way eventually...always..._

"Maybe you had, or still have, feelings for him?" Brown said, and for the first time, his tone had changed. He wasn't angry or annoyed; he sounded almost like he was...regretful? "It's quite common after what you've been through...if you did in fact go through everything implied."

Reid actually choked at the accusation, taking a moment to recover, at which point he could have written a hundred things in response, including demanding if the man thought he'd given _himself_ all the scars he now had, but instead he settled with,_ I want a lawyer!_

"Oh, wouldn't you like that? Give me no answers at all?"

_This is illegal!_

"So is kidnapping, Dr. Reid."

_I didn't kidnap any of them! I didn't help, __I never even went outside! I wasn't His partner! They kidnapped ME! They held ME there, too!_

"Not in the basement, though, correct?" He glanced at Reid's arm on the table, which he then placed into his lap. "The marks that the rest of the children have on their ankles, from metal restraints, they're on your wrists...but they've healed more than theirs have."

_Sometimes._

"Sometimes? What does that mean?"

_It means sometimes!_

"Alright. So where were you held for all the other times?"

Reid exhaled sharply. He didn't respond, but he must have given away the answer in his expression anyway—_anywhere He wanted me to be._

"You did exactly what he wanted, did you? Everything. So isn't it true, isn't it possible, that if he asked you to help him...you would? Even...allow the children to be hurt?" There was that sound of regret again; he didn't want to be asking these questions. So why the hell was he? Reid had started quietly crying again, shaking his head, and then—

"Are the others dead, Dr. Reid? Did you—"

Something in Reid snapped, and he suddenly struck out before the sentence, the _accusation of him killing _could continue, his open hand colliding with the detective's cheek, causing the other man to jerk back in surprise. Reid gasped, horrified with himself, and leaned away. "I—I—"

"Christ!" Brown had clearly had enough. He abruptly pounded his fists against the table and stood up, shoving it against the agent. Reid cried out and crumpled onto the floor, curling into himself against the tile as Brown approached him, yelling. "Are you kidding me? Do you even realize how much trouble you're in? You wanna go away for assault, too? I'm taking this very, very seriously! You are our only lead, and I know—we all know—that you've got the answers. If there was anyone else who could tell me, _trust me_, I would call them!" He got right up in Reid's face, his fist up, like he was threatening to hit him back, and Reid cowered further, though he knew he deserved it...he always deserved it. "I'm getting three hours sleep every night, and it does not make me a patient man. I promise you, I'm going to make your life a living hell until you tell every little piece of information I want to know, got it? Got it? So help me god, you better answer! Do you understand me?"

"Yessir, yessir, yessir!" Reid brokenly choked out between sobs, and Brown was so surprised that the agent had actually spoken that he stepped back, jumping when he heard a shout of, "Detective!" and turning around to see Hotchner standing in the doorway, his expression one of utter contempt.

Emily gently pushed in past him and went over to Reid while Brown walked up to Hotch, who began talking before the detective could open his mouth. "You are no longer apart of this interrogation, not with him. You have already lied to us, along with attempting to have him sign a confession without a lawyer present. I promise I will go over your head, all the way to the Director if I have to, in order to prevent you from walking through this door for the remainder of his case. I suggest you go quietly; I don't want to make a scene in front of the people who think so highly of you. But Detective, I will, and I suggest you do not test me on that."

Brown looked both startled and enraged, somehow at the same time, as Hotch placed his hand out for the key to his agent's handcuffs, and then got out of the way in one smooth step and gestured for the man to get the _hell_ out.

Brown did both things without needing any coercing, grabbing his file and coat and grumbling to himself the whole time. Hotchner turned his attention to Prentiss, who was still trying to calm Reid down, a very difficult task considering she couldn't touch him. He was pulling on the handcuffs, trying hopelessly to free himself, and seemed to be completely caught up in his head. "I'll be good," he was murmuring, dazedly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Ssh, Spencer," she said between his gasping, managing to unlock his restraints and then giving him room. "Spencer, it's okay, you're okay..."

The sound of his distress was absolutely heartbreaking, and there was nothing that would quiet him. He'd upset Him, oh _god_ had he done it now; he'd really fucked up. He was going to get such a beating for fighting, for being so much trouble, for _hitting _Him, for behaving like he was never, _ever_ allowed to, and...and...he just...he couldn't...he...

He took a few more shallow, heaving breaths, and then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed heavily into Emily's lap, prompting a startled cry from the older agent.

"Shi—Reid!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks guys _so so_ much! Hope you like this next chapter! :)**

**Reviews are always are _super duper_ appreciated! I want to hear what you liked, or didn't, or think I could do better at! It all helps! :D**

**EDITED: It was supposed to say 1 Week, not 1 Month below. Not that that really makes any difference to the story in general, but I thought I'd point it out anyway :D**

**WARNINGS: Mentions/implications of abuse of _every kind._**

_**xxx**_

_"All things truly wicked start from innocence."_

_—_Ernest Hemingway

**6.**

**THEN  
(1 Week)**

_"You're turning out to be almost more trouble than you're worth, you know that?"_

_Reid glared, saying nothing. The violent, inhumane thing that stood in front of him as he hung from the chain in the basement, someone he only knew as The Man, pressed His index finger to the agent's lips, which he would've tried to bite had he not already, painfully, found out where that would get him._

_"This pretty little mouth of yours is the problem. You don't know when to shut it. Therefore, I think we're going to have to establish a few more rules...You're not to speak another word unless it's to answer to me, and only me. And then, you may only say 'yes sir', or 'no sir.'" He paused when Reid laughed, outright into His face. "Oh, you think that's funny? You won't. You understand? You're to answer that with 'yes sir', boy. We might even work on 'Master', later, hmm? Just to sweeten the deal. Do you understand?"_

_Reid scowled at him, gritted out, "Go fuck yourself." and the Man suddenly, unhesitatingly shoved His lit cigar against the agent's shoulder, and he screamed._

_"I'm not going to ask again, pet."_

_"Go to hell, you sick bastard! I'm not your pet!"_

_"Wrong." He burned him again._

_"Fuck you!"_

_The cigar touched his skin again, this time on the side of his neck. He writhed, vaguely hearing William crying in the background. __"My team is going to find you—"_

_Another burn._

_"—and you're never going to get—"_

_And another._

_"—away...with...this!"_

_And another._

_Reid was crying now, tears involuntarily falling down his cheeks, yet he still didn't reply with the two words The Man wanted to hear; never, ever, ever would he say them, not even as The Man continued. He was strong. He was strong. __He would not break. He would _not_ break._

_The Man took a long drag, tapping His foot as He looked His trembling captive over. "Okay," He said, calmly, and then turned away. Reid closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recollect himself__—and then he heard William shriek. The Man had come over to the kid with the cigar, holding it far to close to him, forcing him all the way to the end of the bed and his chain, leaving him unable to move any further away._

_"Don't you dare! Leave him alone!"_

_"Two words," The Man said, a sick smile on His face. "That's all I want...for now. Say it or the next thing I burn is him."_

_"You don't have to do this!" Reid groaned, but when The Man leaned the cigar down towards the boy's face, he shouted, "Okay! Okay, stop! You win! Please don't!"_

_The Man gave a little more room between the weapon and William, looking at the agent expectantly. "Well?"_

_"I...I...understand. S...sir."_

_"Don't stutter."_

_"I understand...sir." Reid wanted to throw up, but The Man, seemingly pleased, got away from William, proceeding to saunter back over to Reid, grab him by the neck, and then forcibly kiss him. When He was through, He grinned and said, "Good little pet."_

_Reid smiled back, and then spat directly into His face. The Man exclaimed in disgust, wiped it away with His sleeve, and then proceeded to pry Reid's mouth back open and shove the end of the cigar into it. Reid choked and cried out, trying to spit it back out as it burned his tongue and sent awful, powdery ashes down his throat. The Man removed it once it'd been extinguished, and then Reid really did get sick as He watched, the side of His upper lip twitching up. "Stupid boy," He growled once Reid stopped, gasping for air, hanging limply. He would not break. He was strong. He would not...he could not..._

_"You'll learn. I can guarantee you that. You'll learn fast."_

**NOW**

Reid was only out for a minute; two at the most. He'd writhed under Emily's hand, which had been gently stroking his hair, the very second he came to and then crawled away to sit against the wall, his knees up against his chest, eyes staring somewhere beyond her. He was no longer crying, however, and had somehow seemed to calmed completely, which made her wonder if them calling an ambulance had been the right move. And clearly it hadn't been, because when it got there, and all the medics wanted to do was poke and prod at him to assure he was as alright, he practically hid behind Morgan, refusing to look at any of them, until they all realized he was not going to consent to another exam. The medics did go over his file, however, and asked if they'd used the Diazepam prescribed, so that he _wouldn't_ panic so much he blacked out, as had apparently happened at the hospital the night he was admitted.

"Actually, um, could we take a look at his records?" JJ asked in response, holding out her badge and ID for them to see, and they nodded, faxing them over before they left. Garcia retrieved them first, half because she had been closest and half because she'd been the only one willing to read them first. And it wasn't really that she was willing...that was the wrong word. She was...concerned. And, after she'd gone over them, scarcely breathing, she was appalled, and not only that, angry. She had an unreadable, solemn expression on her face as she approached the others, and when Morgan asked what was wrong, she simply gave him the papers and then turned around, a hand over her mouth as she held back tears.

"Fuck!" Morgan wanted to send his fist through the wall, or better yet, through Detective Brown's head. That man would never hear the end of this; he would make sure of that.

"What?" Prentiss frowned, coming up beside him, and then after a moment she gasped. "Oh, Christ."

JJ closed her eyes. She didn't want to read it; she wasn't prepared to know what was on it, despite it being the only thought in her head since she'd realized it was being hid from them. Morgan almost dumped the papers into her arms anyway as he passed, and although Hotch called his name, none of them stopped him. He found Brown in a back hallway, pacing and angrily grumbling to himself, and, unable to control his anger, Morgan went up and punched him, hard._  
_

Brown exclaimed in surprise and staggered back. "What the hell?"

"You son of a bitch!" Morgan growled, pushing him back."You knew! You knew everything! You had his records!"

"What the hell are you―"

"We read his medical exam." He stared at the detective, unflinchingly. "The medics from the _ambulance _we had to call for him after your episode gave it to us, since you clearly had no plans of letting it go."

Brown knew he was caught, but hell if he wasn't going to play it out like he didn't. "I have no idea what you're―it―it doesn't change―"

"It doesn't change anything? Is that what you were gonna say? He was _brutalized_, Detective! How does that not change anything?"

"I―"

"No," Morgan said, shoving the man back against the wall and keeping him there with an arm across his chest. "You shut the fuck up and listen to me. Did you ever even read it?"

"I read it," Brown grunted out, shaking his head. "I read it."

"Really? The whole thing? How about I go through it again for you, nice and slow, just to be sure, hmm?"

"No."

"Oh, what, _now_ you're squeamish? Which part made you think it was alright to keep harrassin' him, huh? To just keep pushin'? Which part?" Brown was staring at him, eyes wide, but Morgan was relentless, seething. "Was it because you knew he wouldn't fight back? That's because he was _brainwashed_, you bastard; tortured, burned, beaten into submission so many times, maybe every Goddamn day, that they actually don't know if he'll ever completely recover from it all. And Christ―he was r―I can't even―you saw that part, too. I know you did."

Brown drew in a shaky breath. "Yes."

"You know the word before that was _repetitive. _You know what that means, right? And you acted like it was all a game! Do you think he sees it as a game? What, did you think it was fuckin' funny? Huh? Did you?"

"Morgan!" Hotch called his name again as he approached, crossing his arms in obvious displeasure, but by the fact he didn't seem too concerned over Brown's injury, Morgan suspected it was displeasure for what had been done to their own agent.

Morgan released the man, stepping back, breathing hard. "You son of a bitch," he spat again. "You stay the hell away from him." And with that, he stormed off, leaving Hotch glaring at Brown. "Your supervisor will certainly be hearing about this," he stated simply, and then Brown was alone. He watched them go, a hand clutching his bloody nose, and then hung his head.

_**xxx**_

Once Reid had been to the bathroom, gotten something to drink, and was in the room opposite the last, thoroughly convinced that it would only be the calm, collected members of his team that would ask the questions now, JJ sat across from him and rubbed her tired, tearful eyes. "Spence? Spencer...God...we know. I mean, we know what happened..."

Reid bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood; guilt and fear and utter humiliation overwhelmed him to the point where he wanted to scream. He didn't want them to know; he couldn't_ let _them know! _No, you don't. You just don't. You can't!_

"No. You're right. We can't; not really. But you're safe now. You're okay. I promise you, you're safe."

_No. No! Not safe. Never safe. He's still out there. He's going to come back, and He's going to take me again, and the kids, and―_ He'd started shaking too hard to finish, and he buried his face into his hands while she read it and then took in a breath as shaky as he was. "We won't let that happen! Not to any of you."

Reid sobbed and started writing again, barely legible. _You don't understand! I left! I took them and I left! I wasn't allowed to leave! He'll kill me! I used to try, and He found me every time! I couldn't run fast enough, the woods were too big, and He hurt me, He hurt me so much, and―He's gonna kill us!_

JJ was quietly shushing him as he wrote, cooing, "Ssh, please calm down, just breathe...", and then, when she could read it, she placed a hand to her chest, because it honestly hurt. She hated seeing him like this, she wanted to comfort him, and―

"Reid. Reid! Listen to me, this is very important. The house was in the woods?" A feeble nod was his response. "Were there neighbors?"

Reid sniffled, shaking his head, and then she almost went on before he started to write. _Yes. But they only stayed there for half the year...late winter or spring._ And by the time they had returned the first time, he didn't add, he had already accepted the fact he would not be saved, and pitifully hadn't even tried. It was never worth the pain his disobedience brought. _They even came over a few times for dinner...only the kids who didn't fight or cry anymore were allowed upstairs with them. The woman saw me once..._

"How could she not say anything? Or call the police?"

_Her husband wouldn't let her...he didn't care, and I think he hit her, just like He hit Marian. She always had a different bruise on her face when she came...and she was always really quiet._

"Oh, Spence." she murmured, resisting the urge she had to reach out and put her hand on his. "Where...were you kept?"

_They were in the basement. It had beds and all, but they were all chained to them. She said once they learned to behave, she'd take them off, but she never did. I went down there, too, sometimes...when I was bad._

JJ bit her lip, trying to stay on top of the subject. "And Marian never said his name?"

_Not around me. Always sweetie, or sweetheart._

"If we had a picture of the outside of the house, if we could find one...or if we could find their pictures, would you be able to identify them?"

_I will never, ever forget._

"I know. We're going to find him, okay?"

_He's not there!_

"What?"

_The house. After she died, He left. That's how we got out._

"He just...left?"

_He was doing it for her. He never liked the kids. He was so angry...so angry all the time. And if they― _He stopped, staring blankly at the paper.

She read it as well as she could while it was still upside down. "...Spence?"

_If they got too out of line, He would bring them upstairs and beat them until He thought they'd learned, or..._

JJ swallowed hard. He didn't need to finish. Reid all of a sudden let out a cry of pain as if he'd been struck, making her jump, and he bent forward, sobbing against his hands, his entire body trembling.

"What's wrong?" She struggled to her knees beside him. "Spencer, w-what can I do? We can stop, we'll stop, will that―?"

Reid shook his head, staggered to his feet, grabbed the notepad, scribbled something down, and then placed it back down in front of her. She watched him as he then went over to the opposite corner, numbly staring back, tears still rushing down his face, and then he had to look away. He couldn't meet her eyes after everything he had done...after everything he hadn't been able to stop. It was over now. It didn't matter anymore. She would never be able to look at him the same way again...none of them would. And he knew that was exactly what he deserved.

She picked up the notepad, and her blood ran cold.

_He made me watch. He always made me watch. He made me bury them._

_There are seven children in the backyard of their house..._

_And I'm the one who put them there._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for your continued support! Hope you enjoy this chapter, too! THANK YOU to [reidfan1971] for helping me out with the ending conversation with Reid/Rossi. And of course, to everyone else :) *heart emoticon that fanfiction won't allow me to put***

**Reviews, as always, are very greatly appreciated and very much loved. :')**

**_xxx_**

_"To weep is to make less the depth of grief."_

― William Shakespeare

**7.**

**THEN  
(4 Months)**

_"Spencer. Spencer! Wake up!"_

_Reid groaned, blinking open his eyes (or really, his eye; one of them was bruised enough it would not cooperate) and trying to clear his vision enough to see that all four of the children before him were awake, the two closest to the middle bed uncomfortably crowded around it, around the girl who had been placed here less than a week ago, who, as his senses came back, he could hear was wheezing painfully, loudly._

_"Something's wrong with her," Lauren, the oldest of them at twelve, had the girl in her arms as best she could with the length of her chain pulled taut. "What do I do? What do I _do?_"_

_"W-what happened? What's wrong?"_

_"I don't know!"_

_The very youngest of them, Rosie, whimpered and said, "My brother did that. He needed medicine. Does she have medicine?"_

_"What medicine?" Lauren gasped, distressed to the point where she was panting almost as hard as the girl._

_"Oh my God," Reid said at last as it clicked, kicking his foot against the ground to steady himself. "She's having an asthma attack."_

_Will stood up and squinted around in the darkness. "Does she have an inhaler?"_

_"They didn't bring one with her...maybe upstairs?"_

_"Rosie, bang on the wall! You're right next to it!"_

_"But they're sleeping..."_

_"And she's dying!"_

_Reid cut them all off. "Get her up! Get her sitting up!"_

_"What?"_

_"Just do it! Now!"_

_Lauren grabbed the girl under her arms and brought her up to sit, and her head lolled onto her shoulders._

_"Hey, hey! Sweetie!" Reid said, and then the girl glanced up at him, dazed,__ Lauren holding her steady so she couldn't fall back down._

_"Just try to breathe, okay? Just breathe. Deep breaths. With me, okay? Look at me! In through your nose...out through your mouth...in...out...Yeah, just like that. You're gonna be okay, sweetheart, it's gonna be okay."_

_Lauren finally understood he was trying to calm her out of the attack, and then gestured her head towards Will, who began rubbing comforting circles in the girl's back. Rosie started humming something slow and melodic, probably to calm herself as much as the other girl, slowly rocking back and forth in her bed._

_"It's gonna be okay. I promise, you're gonna see your mom and dad again soon, okay?" Reid continued, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. "It's okay. Sssh. Sssh. It's okay, it's okay..."_

_After a long, uncertain amount of time, the girl's breathing started to slow; just a bit at first, and then over a while longer evened back out. Lauren finally looked up, vision blurred with tears, and heard that Reid was still mumbling, very quietly, his eyes closed now. "Hey," she said. "Spencer!"_

_Reid raised his head a bit, blinking hard at her, and she gestured towards where the girl was sleeping soundly in her arms, smiling at him. "It worked. She's okay!"_

_The agent managed a weak smile and nod before he groaned softly and slipped back into a restless sleep as he so often did anymore. With a sigh, Lauren turned her attention to the others. Rosie was totally lost in slumber now, as well, and Will was getting there. She supposed it was safe for her to put the girl down now and return to her own bed...but instead, she just lowered both of them back down onto the mattress they were on now, burying her face in the other girl's hair, wishing she was back home and it was her own little sister beside her. She wondered if she'd ever even see her family again; while Spencer's words had been about as comforting as they could hope for down here in this situation, that's all they'd been: words. And words wouldn't get them out of here, words wouldn't make them be rescued faster, and...words wouldn't stop this little girl from having another attack, or another, and she knew that eventually they would be helpless to assist her. They couldn't even help themselves._

_"I'm sorry," she tearfully murmured into the girl's hair, speaking to the five of them here and everyone that she might never see again. She knew it wasn't her fault, but that didn't make her sorrow any less. "I'm so, so sorry."_

**NOW**

For the sole reason of the team not being able to stand Reid spending another night one of those rooms, alone, with nothing but the cold floor or hard chair to do so on, they convinced two officers to watch him and allow him to move to the couch in their own break room. The promise was that he would cause no trouble, and he didn't. In fact, once he had calmed down, he slept relatively soundly, aside from several, incoherently mumbled sentences, through most of the night, blissfully unaware of the less-than-gentle looks he received every time someone came in.

The team hadn't shared most of the information of what was going on with any of the others, only that Brown was no longer seen as fit to continue the interrogation part of the investigation. But assuming the precinct had listened to the detective wholeheartedly about the case, about his suspect, they probably suspected the worst. Corruption and whatnot, maybe. JJ had only shared with anyone the fact that the seven were dead; she didn't know if she could handle repeating the rest, even to the rest of her team.

Then, Garcia, at around 4 AM, called awake the others, most dozing in their chairs, and began to speak as they huddled around the tiny screen of her laptop.

"Alright, so really, this should've been impossible. Actually, for anyone else it would be. Lucky you have me, right? Right? Yeah, okay. So." She clicked to show a map of the state. "For one, there are a lot of wooded areas here, okay. Two, there is no property in any of the ones where living is legal which has Marian as a registered name; no currently-being-lived-in property at all, actually. I looked through old factories, abandoned places, a few of which I _swear to you_ are haunted, all in the middle of nowhere, nothin'." She held up a finger, dramatically. "But! Then, I thought that just maybe they were crazy enough to be in an actual neighborhood, one where the houses each had a good amount of land between them? Anyway, I went with it and found two possible locations.

"One of them is gated, highly secured, no way they could've gotten away with it. The _other,_" she zoomed in on a clump of trees with blackened squares every so often, "is not. And what did I find when I went through their registry? This one, in the middle, under one fifty-two-year-old _Mariana _Duboir, and wow did I find the four-one-one on her. She grew up with her single dad blaming her for her mother dying during birth. And when I say blaming, I mean with fists, not words. She was admitted to the hospital four times as a minor."

"Garcia," JJ interrupted, "did she lose a child?"

"She lost _two._ Three and a half years ago she miscarried, and a year after that, a ten year old Cody Deboir was found dead in the house after police responded to a nine-one-one call. He drowned in the bathtub."

"At ten years old?" Rossi asked, and Garcia looked at him sadly. "It was inconclusive if he was held down. He did have signs of previous physical abuse, however."

"And the husband?"

Garcia shook her head. "There's no record she's married. Divorced, almost twenty years ago, from someone who now lives in California—total model citizen, by the way, remarried, three kids, he's even a kindergarten teacher—but...nothing now."

"That's not possible." JJ said, sticking a hand in her pocket. "There were two. There's gotta be something, anything."

"I'm sorry, hon. There just isn't. And you know I'd find him if there was. Maybe they were never married?"

"Maybe. Why call him her husband then?"

Hotch glanced at her. "Reid doesn't remember anything about him?"

"Oh, he remembers everything about him. He just never got a name." She shook her head. "The kids back with their parents right now are alive because she wanted them to be, not because the unsub did. Spence told me that when the man would get angry enough at the kids, he would beat them. Marian, too."

Morgan scoffed and looked away, and Rossi nodded slowly. "He gets off on pain, then. Reliving a childhood memory? Maybe someone did that to him, or a sibling, and he's reenacting the scene where he's the one in control."

"And that could be a lot of the PTSD causes," Prentiss said, and JJ nodded, but it was slow, hesitant, enough that Hotch noticed. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. As much as the words hurt her to say, it didn't make them any less true, and they deserved to know. "He killed the seven children that way. And...made Spence bury them."

"Christ!" Morgan cursed, slamming his fist onto the table. "I want this guys' fuckin' head."

"Easy," Hotch warned sternly, and Prentiss frowned. "But then why did they find just one? The girl, nine, Missy Thompson. She was found on the side of the highway."

"Maybe that was a test, to see if it would be found?"

Rossi shook his head. "No...I don't think he would be that risky. He's managed to stay under the radar completely...he wouldn't be that disorganized."

"What about the wife?" Morgan pointed at the laptop. "How did Missy Thompson die?"

"Ahh...suffocation," Garcia frowned sadly. "An asthma attack. Says she probably had a few minor ones before the one that killed her. No medication was given any of the times."

"I'm going to assume that wasn't part of their plan."

"And she wanted her to be found. She felt bad." Garcia clicked at the keyboard a few more times before there was a knock on the door, and they turned to see Reid, along with one of his officers.

"He needed to see you immediately," the officer said, and Reid shuffled a couple feet forward before he stopped, handing his notepad to Morgan, who was closest.

_I remember another name. Her son's, I think, maybe. Cody...there wasn't a Cody with us. Does that help?_

"Well shit." Morgan handed the paper over, and after they'd all seen it, it was already settled.

"Officer," Hotchner said quickly, "uncuff him. Release him into our custody. He's not your criminal, and if you all will let us, we can prove it."

**_xxx_**

It had been barely twenty minutes after his release, sitting in the corner of the room in a chair, before Reid had begun to feel awful again. Here he was, and here seven children weren't. Here he was, free, and somewhere, The Man was as well. He didn't see any reason he should be happy. He didn't see any reason he should be anything but miserable. He watched the team put together their testimony, bit by bit, and knew he would remain out of jail, but he still couldn't get himself to relax. He didn't deserve to, though, did he? Not really. He wasn't innocent, and he certainly wasn't free. No, he would never be either of those. Not ever. Not while He was still out there. Not while the memories and the fear haunted him with every breath he took.

Rossi, after a few minutes of glancing over at their saddened friend, pulled up a chair next to him and sat. Reid flinched and turned his head away as if he expected violence, and Rossi gently said, "I just want to talk, Spencer. Okay? I'm not going to hurt you. You have to know that. None of us ever would ever hurt you. Okay?"

Reid raised his head a bit and nodded, looking at the man out of the corner of his eyes.

"You know," Rossi began, slowly, crossing his legs and leaning back, "I've done some awful things. Terrible, awful things. When I was in the war...and when I wasn't."

A bit curious as to where this was going, Reid looked up. Rossi acted like he didn't notice. "I've had to kill. I've had to watch people—good people—die right in front of me. And I've had to tell their families, their friends...live with it myself. It's part of the job." He turned his gaze to Reid, who immediately turned his own down to the floor. "But...you have to remember the people you_do _save, the people you give the satisfaction of knowing that the one who tried to take away their life is gone for good. Reid, eight kids are alive because of you, because of what you did. And you have to understand...that the others...they are not dead because of you. You did not cause it, and you certainly didn't kill them yourself."

_I didn't stop Him, _Reid wrote onto the notepad he'd been hugging to his chest.

"Didn't, or couldn't?"

Reid hesitated, and Rossi sighed. "Didn't and couldn't are two very, very different things. If you didn't, that is a choice you made for yourself. If you couldn't, Reid...that's a choice that was made_for_ you. If your life was being threatened to the point where you _couldn't,_then it is not your fault."

_I should have tried! I should have done something...anything!_

"Every single day while I was in Vietnam, I thought that too. Every single day. Sometimes, though, Reid...sometimes there's nothing you can do. But you need to keep yourself alive, no matter what, and I know that sounds selfish, but it means you can go on to help more people. What happened to those kids is unforgivable, but Reid, _you _didn't kill them. There was nothing you could do, but that doesn't mean you were helpless.

"It means there was nothing you could do, and that's that. I'm still kept up by nightmares of those I couldn't save. But because all of us are alive, hundreds of others are, too. Because _you're_alive, those kids are sleeping in their beds tonight, with their parents and sisters and brothers, and they couldn't be more grateful to you, because _you _are the reason they're there. You took care of them all to the best of your ability, and that's all you could do. That's all anyone ever expected of you, and all you should have ever expected out of yourself. None of us blame you, Reid; none of us. We know it's not your fault. We know you did everything you possibly could to save them all, and we're so, so proud of you. You heard that, right? We're _proud _of you. You're here, and you're alive, and we couldn't be happier about that. Don't think for a second that any of us wish you weren't."

It was silent for a long moment as Reid processed the words, processed the emotions the words brought onto him, and then suddenly he burst into tears and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Rossi's arm. Rossi did not try to touch him, allowing him to seek out whatever little comfort he wanted, and he looked up to find the others watching, brokenhearted. Thankfully, however, Reid wasn't crying in distress; no, his tears were of relief, of actual, pure, utter relief, because after being told for so long that he would never, ever be forgiven for what he'd done...he just had been. They wanted him. His family wanted him here. He was wanted...he was _loved._

And only then did Reid realize that he had forgotten what being loved felt like.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Oh my god! Over 100 follows, almost 50 favorites, and 70 reviews? You guys are insanely awesome! I can't believe how well this has been received, I totally didn't expect that on starting out :D I hope you guys like this next chapter just as much as the others! :D **

**Reviews, as always, are super duper appreciated and very much loved! :')**

**WARNINGS: More (past) abuse of victims, though it's mostly physical/emotional here. **

**_xxx_**

_"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." _

― Laurell K. Hamilton

**8.**

**THEN**  
**(6 Months)**

_"What the hell are you smiling at, boy?" The Man peered over the top of His newspaper, suspicious. Reid was lying on his side, right where he was supposed to be, on His bed. And he was fucking grinning. "Something funny?"_

_Reid smirked bigger, to the point where his teeth were showing, and The Man placed the paper down on His lap. "Are you trying to piss me off?"_

_"Fuck you."_

_The Man glared at him and sighed. "Oh, pet. We'd been making such good progress." He stood up, and Reid probably should've cowered and begged Him not to hurt him, but instead he just laughed, loudly, and continued to do so even when The Man's hand slapped him across his face. Then, when that failed, He grabbed Reid around his throat, which successfully silenced him, although he was somehow still smiling. The Man scowled. "_What?_"_

_"Your paper—" he gasped out, and The Man threw him back onto the mattress, turning around and picking up the newspaper. He flipped it around to the side Reid would've been able to see, and audibly growled at the article on the back page, directly under a large picture of the very agent He had in His room._

_"They're gonna find me." Reid said, because for the first time in a while, he really believed it. "They're gonna find the kids. They're gonna find _you_."_

_"Oh, are they now?" The Man laughed. "Just wait. You'll be old news before you know it."_

_"You said that before! And they're still looking!"_

_He hit Reid again, and the younger scooted away, back towards the other side of the bed. _

_"Give it another six months, another year."_

_"No. No. I won't be here that long." Reid shook his head, and The Man lunged out and grabbed him, dragging him towards Him until he was bent over the side of the bed, his knees on the ground. "You think you're gonna leave? You think you're gonna get away from me?"_

_"Let go!"_

_"You best shut your mouth. I never said you could talk, did I?" He grabbed the belt He had turned into a weapon from the closet and then held it up for Reid to see, pleased to see this disgusting defiance turn back into fear. "You are never going to leave. They will never find you." He whipped him once, twice, three times, and kept shouting as he did so. "You are nothing! You are nothing! They will never find you! And do you really think they would want you back even if they did? Look at yourself, slut! You're worthless. You're nothing, nothing without me. They don't want you. No one wants you. I'm the only one who will ever give a shit about you, you hear me? And you will treat me with respect!"_

_Reid collapsed when The Man released him, whimpering, curling into himself. The Man went into the bathroom, grabbed a bottle from the cabinet, and then came back, holding it, thankfully still capped, over the younger's back. Reid saw it and immediately flipped over and began begging for The Man's forgiveness, because he knew exactly what was in the container, and he knew exactly what The Man was planning to do with it. He had done it before, and Reid would have done absolutely anything to prevent it from happening again. "Please! I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I won't leave! I'll stay! Please don't!"_

_The Man lowered his arm, and yet Reid wasn't paying attention. "Please...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Master, I'm sorry. Please don't. I'll do whatever you want. Please..."_

_"Oh, pet." The Man cooed, grabbing Reid's arm and helping him to his feet and back onto the bed. "I know. I know you're sorry. And you won't ever talk to me like that again, will you?"_

_"No. No, sir. No, Master. No." Reid sniffled against the blankets, shaking his head weakly. _

_"You love me?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Hm?"_

_"I love you, Master."_

_"That's good to hear," The Man said, and then He opened the bottle of alcohol anyway. "Maybe next time you'll think about that before you piss me off."_

**NOW**

While the rest of the team and a few officers from the precinct made the two-hour long journey to the unsub's house in Rockford, Garcia, after taking herself and Reid back to the hotel, had been doing everything in her power to find every male Mariana had ever been in contact with in her life. She started with her high school yearbooks, where she and her then-boyfriend had been voted cutest couple her senior year, then went to her coworkers, her extended family (because Garcia unfortunately decided it couldn't be ruled out that they had been related, and that that was why there was no record) and then, most successfully, her long-since deserted social networking profiles, where she found twelve more associates. She put together their pictures, their backgrounds, their current occupations and supposed living quarters, as well as their closest friends. The team would have to go to each of them, most likely...not a single one had a clean record. They all seemed like equally awful people; she had sure known how to pick the best of them.

She glanced over to the bed closest to the wall, where Reid had, after taking a very long shower, snuggled up under the blankets and remained asleep ever since, though it hardly seemed peaceful. She looked back at him every time she heard movement or noise from him, unable to help her concern, only able to watch, helplessly, as he twisted and whimpered softly, waiting for him to settle back down or startle himself awake. It was emotionally agonizing to see how much he was affected by what happened, and even worse to _know _what had happened, even if it had only been the basic outlines, the worst parts, the only parts they were probably going to know about, at least for a long while. And maybe that was for the best…the medical exam had been bad enough. Garcia knew he had the ability to recover...he had from everything else on this job. But this time...it was so very different this time. They had seen PTSD with Agent Gideon, certain times in particular more than others, but Reid's severity couldn't be hidden or ignored or brushed off.

_Jason Gideon._ Garcia scowled. In the worst two years of their lives, none of them had heard anything from the former federal agent, who had taken off a year before that to only God knew where—if even God knew! No letters aside from the final one that broke Spencer's heart, no calls...nothing. And quite truthfully Garcia had understood his reasons for leaving. But his reasons for not calling? Not joining the search? Not showing even the minimum amount of care that the man that had looked up to him had been taken away? Had he been completely unaware of everything this entire time?

Reid was mumbling when she came out of her head, and then he jerked upright, panting, tears streaking down his face. She held her hands out and immediately began to calmly say, "It's okay, Spencer. It's okay. You're safe. You're in the hotel, remember? I brought you here. It's okay."

He watched her with wide eyes for a few moments as he tried to shove his memories away and concentrate, and then he fell back to stare at the ceiling, catching his breath, putting his arm over his eyes. _Hotel. Hotel. Garcia. No ropes. No Him. No Him.  
_

"How are you feeling? Do you need something?"

Reid shook his head, but in fact desperately wanted—no, _needed_—another shower, another two showers, another ten. He didn't know if there was enough soap and water in the world to get rid of the dirtiness he felt, the dirtiness he_ was_. He propped himself up on his elbows and made a very small gesture towards the bathroom, and Garcia nodded. "You don't have to ask, pet," she said, smiling, but Reid flinched and ended up cowering back under the covers.

"I'm s—what did I say wrong?" She was so confused—she wanted their old genius back!—and then she thought quickly and began on a different subject. "So I got you something…a present!" She retrieved her laptop, clicked a few times, and then sat it on the bed beside Reid. The younger man at last peered out, wiping tears from his face, looking cautiously at the screen like he was afraid something would jump out of it and bite him. The page it was on was of a large, hardcover book on chemical engineering that she just so happened to have ordered for him, and she smiled at him.

"I thought it might be something you'd like! It just came out, so…Anyway, yeah. That'll be yours as soon as we get back to Quantico."

Reid reached out tentatively to scroll down and read the rest of the page, and then he smiled shyly up at her, nodding.

"Oh, good, good." She clapped her hands together once and then noticed Reid was slowly typing something. He turned it back around after a moment to show her, where he had written in the search bar in the corner.

_It's great! Thank you! I missed reading! I missed you…I missed you all._

"We missed you, too, sweetness. You know…we wrote to you while you were gone."

Reid looked at her funny, like he was wondering if she had been expecting him to get mail, and she added, "I mean…in a binder. I think JJ brought it with her, if you wanted to...anyway, there are letters to you in it. We wrote almost every week, sometimes every day. And that isn't even all of them. So, you know, you could see everything that had happened…when you came back."

The younger had started tearing up again, but he was smiling, and he clumsily replied, _I didn't know if you…if any of you had…He told me that you wouldn't care after a while…after everyone forgot…that He was the only one who did. That...you would forget about me._

"Oh, love. You never believed that...did you? That we didn't miss you every second you were gone?"

Reid closed his eyes, erased the typing, and then got up and locked himself into the bathroom. When he came back out a while later, his hair making water tracks down the sweater Morgan had given him to wear, he dazedly sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the carpet. His second shower alone, safe, and his second time entering a bedroom where no one was waiting for him to do unspeakable things. He was vaguely, very vaguely, beginning to believe that, just maybe, he was okay…at least for now. Not psychologically (no, definitely not that), but physically he felt almost…better? The lesions on his back had healed enough they hadn't bled in the shower, and The Man was not around to give Reid more. He was exhausted from nightmares, yes, but when he was awake, he knew he was no longer with Him. This was not a dream…He was not going to scream at Reid for opening his mouth, or doing things without permission, or beat him back into silence if he said the wrong thing. The word 'Master' did not have to pass his lips here...and everything else had the potential to.

"Hello," Garcia smiled at him from where she sat at the desk, and then, after a long moment, Reid mumbled something, hardly above a whisper, before he slowly raised his eyes to hers, cleared his throat, and said, "Hi...?"

Garcia brightened up immensely. "Hi!" she replied, cheerfully, and Reid managed a smile, too, because there had been no undesirable consequences, and he did, in fact, still know how to speak. "C-c…" he began, frowning, pushing his hair out of his face. "I—I'm…I'm h-hungry?" The words, again, came out as a question instead of a statement, quiet, higher in pitch than his voice usually would be, but Garcia laughed and nodded, and her face seemed to have more color than it had since he had seen her the first time. "Whatever you want, I'll get it. D-do you wanna go? With me, I mean? Outside?"

Reid glanced over at the window, the curtains of which were cracked open a bit, and sternly shook his head. One risk at a time.

"Okay, that's okay. That's okay." She placed a hand over her chest and sighed in content. "I've missed your voice, Spencer."

Reid nodded in agreement, but he wasn't terribly sure how he felt about it. Disobedient, that's how he felt. Master didn't want him talking to anyone else but Him. And Reid couldn't kick the desire to please Him out of his head.

_"I think you're protecting him. Do you have feelings for him? It's quite common after everything you've gone through..."_

Reid might have thought so once. But when Rossi had spoken to him, he had recalled what it really felt like...and it certainly didn't feel like beatings and sex and punishment, over and over and over again. No, it felt like being cared about; knowing that he wasn't just an object to be played with, knowing that his team, his family, had had as many sleepless nights as he had, and that they had just willingly given up another four to help set him free. And now that he realized that _that_ was what love was, what it had always been...he knew that just because the violence had toned down a bit after he had completely submitted, just because He had acted a bit nicer whenever Reid was exceptionally good, just because He most always tended to the injuries _He created_...that didn't mean He had ever, ever loved him. And no matter how much Reid may or may not have had "feelings" for_ Him_ after a while—love...had he loved Him?—it didn't matter anymore. He was here, with his family, now, and he was okay. He was not with The Man anymore; he would never be with that awful, tyrant again, as long as his family had a say in it.

And the fact that this made Reid feel a strange way deep down inside, like maybe he was upset about that, even just in the slightest...it was something that he knew he would remain ashamed of for the rest of his existence.

_**xxx**_

Several cities away, at a bar in Highland Park, the football game everyone was watching went to another annoyingly long commercial break.

"Tonight at eleven," said a women reporter, the camera shaky, "more on the seven abducted children found, along with who we are now hearing may be a former federal agent..." It cut to an even more unstable video of the the scene from earlier that week, although it was dark, and all that could really be made out was the flashing, colored lights of the police cars and ambulances. "...and what is being done to find the rest of the missing,_ and_ the person responsible."

"Damn," one of the guys at the bar said, downing another shot and looking to the man beside him. "Real crazy, huh?"

"Yeah. I just hope they catch the guy, you know? My friend's little boy was one of them."

"Oh, shit, man. I'm sorry."

"They found 'em, it's okay. Thank god. But the others? And like...who the fuck can just take someone's kid? I'd kill the bastard myself if I got the chance."

The first snorted. "You kiddin' me? You couldn't take on a toddler."

"I could with this guy. Only a weak, pathetic piece of shit would do something like that."

"Uh-huh."

If they'd bothered to turn around, they would've seen that they were being watched by someone a few tables over, in the back of the crowded place. This man leaned back once they'd gone back to a different subject, using a finger against the rim of his empty glass to twirl it around on the table. He licked his lips and then shoved a hand in his pocket as his cell phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID and chuckled a bit, placing it on the table and allowing it to go to voice-mail. Then, he looked back up as another quick news commercial flashed on the screen before the game began again. He made eye-contact as the second man from the conversation he'd been listening to peered behind him and ended up looking directly at him. He nodded, glanced away, and then when he realized he was still being stared at, he turned back around and, awkwardly, took another drink.

The phone on the table lit up again with another call, and the owner ignored it. He'd answer it later...right now, something had come up, and he needed to take care of it.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you all! I'm so insanely excited about where this story is going, I've never planned out an entire ending in advance before! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Reviews, as always, are supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-ly appreciated and indubitably loved ;D**

**WARNINGS: Past abuse/(implied) non-con.  
**

_**xxx**_

_"Betrayal is the only truth that sticks."_

― Arthur Miller

**9.**

**THEN****  
**(9 Months)****

_"If I stop, are you going to say what I want to hear?"_

_Reid mumbled into the tie bound around his mouth, the pillow his face was against as he lay on his stomach, which was practically smothering him, soaked in tears and sweat. He could feel the blood on his back, sticky and hot, from where the metal buckle of the belt had ripped into his skin what felt like a hundred times...and what could have been more. He didn't know. Everything was a blur, but of course...that was his fault. He had tried to leave again. He was never allowed to do that, never even allowed to think about it. And what a pathetic try it had been; he'd made it out the door, but that was about it. At least last time he had made it into the woods. Then, he'd been knocked down and dragged, uselessly kicking and screaming, back into the house, back into the room he would have rather died than ever see again. He hadn't been thinking clearly...oh god, he was so sorry...but then, he was always sorry when pain was being inflicted upon him._

_The gag was removed, and he turned his head to gasp for air. He would have fought against the ropes tying his wrists to the headboard, but he hardly had enough energy to remain conscious. And he had to do that. Bad things happened when he wasn't awake enough to stop them; bad things happened no matter what. He liked to believe he had a chance, though._

_"Speak."_

_"I'm so sorry..." Reid panted, his eyelids fluttering. "I'm so sorry, sir. Please. No more."_

_The Man, who had been standing, now moved smoothly over to lie next to him, placing His hands on the open wounds He'd just caused, and Reid sobbed while He smirked. "And you won't try to leave me again, will you?"_

_"No, sir. No. No. No, I won't."_

_"Because...?"_

_"Y-you're―" Reid's voice broke, and so he took a breath and then started again. He would regret this later, but...he just couldn't fight anymore, not right now. Maybe when he had his strength back again...maybe... "Because you're my master. And I'm yours. I'm yours..."_

_"Good boy." The Man started petting the younger's hair, which was comforting in a way because that meant He was done, at least with the belt. And Reid forced himself to lean into the touch, because He liked when Reid acted like that; helpless, weak...destroyed. But he wasn't. Not yet. He was just...tired. He was always tired nowadays. He'd been tired constantly for the past months...or at least, he hoped it had only been months; every day only felt longer than the last. __His eyes closed, and he felt The Man shift over him though pretended like he didn't; he always acted like it wasn't happening, that it never did, even when it was. He was strong. He would not break...unless, this right here was him breaking, and instead of what he feared would happen, which was that he would become too afraid to fight, he would simply stop _caring _enough to fight._

_He truly didn't know which was more terrifying._

**NOW**

While Garcia was out getting something for them to eat, Reid was more lost than he should have been for being in a small hotel room. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do…and that really frightened him. If The Man had ever left him completely alone, He had made sure Spencer had either had enough things to do that he didn't have time to take a deep breath let alone think, or that he was restrained enough he didn't have a chance of doing anything else. That was only when He was angry, however...well, more angry than usual. Occasionally He had just put him in the basement, but after a while (especially after He had decided Reid needed to stop conversing with the children), He would leave Reid in His room, handcuffed either to the wooden chair in the corner, the headboard of the bed, or, if He was _very_ angry with him, He would bind him to the radiator and turn it on, so that if he tried to do anything but stand uncomfortably rigid, he would be burned.

The only reason that wasn't as awful as The Man desired it to be was because it was the only time Reid was able to see out the window, through a crack in the blinds. He had never dared to fully open them, but the crack was large enough that he could see the trees outside, and the sky, and the sun, and everything he missed. It thankfully distracted him (mostly) from the misery he'd be in by the time The Man returned, and it was something he could think about when, well...when he needed a distraction. The Man had had a job, because he was only ever gone from very early in the mornings to sometime in the afternoon, and only a few days out of the week; Reid had never be exact with the schedule, as he was never allowed to know the date or time. And, undoubtedly, the job was something stressful, because He almost always angrier when He came back, giving Him the energy He needed for His regime of violence.

So now, as Reid sat on the bed, his limbs as free as ever, he didn't know what to do. He'd forgotten what the option of choosing was like…and maybe he didn't like or want it. At least with The Man, he had known exactly what pissed Him off, exactly what was expected of him before He got home, exactly what he should do and exactly what he shouldn't. The Man had spent over two years training him to be what He wanted, and He had done a damn good job at it. Reid wasn't supposed to think for himself—he was supposed to shut up and obey. No one had even struck him since he'd gotten away, not even once, not even the detective from before, and it was strange; granted, it was a_welcome_ strange, but strange all the same. He did remember life before, but…it didn't seem real. He still felt as if, at any moment, he would wake up and be back in The Man's bed, or in the basement, or anywhere else but here.

After a long while of thinking he stood and went over to the window, tucked the curtain back an inch or two, and took a deep breath as the light from the setting sun fell warm against his face. He immediately felt better, closing his eyes and enjoying what he hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. He had never been allowed outside except to do what he would have nightmares about for the rest of his life, and of course that had always been in the middle of the night, so no one could see (or hear) what was being done. The Man had tried his hardest, and succeeded, in making sure Spencer was as cut off from the outside world as possible.

His eyes went to the luggage at his feet. JJ had stayed in this room; Reid recognized her bag. What had Garcia said she had brought? A journal? Letters to him?

Curious, absentmindedly looking around to assure he wouldn't be caught touching things that weren't his (bad, bad, _bad_), Reid sat down and unzipped her bag, just a bit, enough he could peer inside, thinking it absolutely insane that he was allowing himself to do this. However, the first thing he saw was a red binder, and when he pulled it out, gently, he saw that there was a note tucked into the front sleeve that said _Dear Reid. _So...technically it was his, right? And if it belonged to him, he was allowed to look at it.

He opened it, leaned up against the side of the bed, stretched out his legs in front of him, placed the binder on his lap, and then began to read.

**_xxx_**

The dial tone rang three times before the desired person _finally_, after at least twenty failed attempts, picked up, cut off before they could even say 'hello'. "You son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you."

"No, you're not," the voice replied, very low. "But you already know that."

"Did you kill the guy at the bar?"

"Hmm?"

"The one the police are all over in Highland Park? His friend described a guy in a dark red Camry that sounded _remarkably _like you!"

"Hmm. I don't actually recall last night too well, sorry."

"You promised you wouldn't—that you wouldn't—it was never supposed to go this far!"

"You should know as well as anyone that sometimes shit happens."

"You're crazy!"

"Am I? Or are you? I don't hear sirens, so..."

"Yeah...But—but _this..."_

"Are you done? Because—"

"No! I'm done!"

"Don't you dare try to fuck me over again."

"Listen, what happened—"

"I never did want to hear your bullshit. Why do you think I never answer your calls?"

"Stop this! These kids, that man...they were innocent. They didn't deserve it!"

"Did you deserve it? Did _I_ deserve it? Clearly you thought so, but—"

"That's not fair—"

"No! What's not fair is what you did to me. What you let _him _do to me."

"You've gone over the fuckin' edge!"

"And you only have yourself to blame for that. You hang up, and I swear, you'll go to jail faster than you can say anything about me. And I swear, that man can either be the last or the first. Take your pick."

With a long sigh, Detective Brown leaned back in his chair, defeated. "Alright. What do you want?"

"I'm ready now, _brother..._and I need you to make that delivery for me."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you all! And, ah...sorry...? *nervous chuckle***

**Reviews, as always, are so lovely and appreciated! Even if it's just a few words, I love hearing from you all! :)**

_**xxx**_

_"We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves." _

― Malcolm X

**10.**

**THEN  
****(1 Year)**

_"Spencer...?" William began, cautiously walking up to where the older was in the kitchen, slowly, inattentively wiped the cloth in his hand over the same spot on the counter for the umpteenth time in the very few minutes the child had been watching. Reid didn't respond, didn't even look like he had heard the boy, and so William reached out and touched his shoulder. "Spencer?"_

_Reid whimpered and pulled away, shaking his head._

_"Why don't you talk to us anymore?" the younger questioned tearfully. "Why don't you even look at us anymore?"_

_"Trouble." Spencer murmured in response, again shaking his head, grabbing the washcloth and moving onto another part of the room._

_William only followed, and to Reid's dismay, so did the other three children, all of whom were supposed to be waiting at the dinner table. "But He's not home...and she's outside. It's okay right now!"_

_"No." Reid looked at him. "No."_

_"Please...don't do this. Not after...not after Lauren. Please. We need you!"_

_"Can't."_

_"Spencer—"_

_"I can't!" Reid turned to them, and for the moment that their gazes met, all any of them saw was pain and fear that mimicked their own. Then, surprisingly, William's eyes averted and he said, "Sorry," as if he had a reason to be. Reid held out his hand for the other to take, and then, when William did so, he pulled the boy into a tight embrace—the first either had had in what might have been months. He looked up at the other children and nodded, and then they wrapped their arms around him too._

_"You're shaking." William mumbled against Spencer's shirt, and then he was crying, and Reid buried his face in the other's hair and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_The sliding glass door to the backyard opened, and Reid quickly gave them another squeeze before releasing the four and ushering them back into the other room. He was just returning when Marian stepped into the kitchen, and she frowned knowingly. "Are you supposed to talk to them?"_

_"No ma'am." Spencer said, hoarsely, and he flinched when she slapped his mouth. "Then don't. You know better."_

_"Yes ma'am."_

_"Good. I'll finish up in here before dinner, you go upstairs. He'll be home soon...you know how he likes his laundry folded."_

_"Yes ma'am." Reid backed his way out of the kitchen, passing through the dining room and brushing his hand against all four of the children's backs as he went, only wishing he could do more to comfort them._

_He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a car door slam, and he sprinted the rest of the way up, closing himself inside His room, grabbing the basket of clothes Marian had brought up earlier, and hurriedly (albeit neatly) folding them and putting them in their proper drawers. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and hold back the tears that were behind his eyes._It's okay_, he told himself. _It's okay. You were good. It's okay. You're okay.

_He placed his hands over his face after a moment and let out a long sob because no, no it _wasn't_ okay, and neither was he...and there was nothing he could do about it. _

_Not anymore._

**NOW**

Spencer had only made it a page into the binder before he had started to cry, adding to the tear stains that were on the papers as he continued. The heartbreak, the grief, every emotion that had been poured into the words written...they made him unbearably sad, but also, in a sick sort of way, happy. He had been missed so desperately that it had been hard for them to keep on going with their daily lives. They had cried themselves to sleep as many times as he had, from the sound of it, and it made him feel so much less like he had before, like he had been alone, like The Man had convinced him to feel. If only he had known before, maybe...maybe...

No. Nothing could have changed what happened. He hadn't been as strong as he had once believed, and that was that. Still, it would have been comforting...but now, now was when he probably needed to realize, to acknowledge, to _believe_ it the most. Maybe JJ would hug him when she came back...and maybe Garcia, too...and Emily...and maybe sometime he would allow one of the others to hug him. He desperately wanted a hug...a touch that wouldn't hurt him, that wouldn't be forced upon him, that he could stop at any point by his own will...a comfort, something he hadn't had in years from anyone but the children. He wanted his mother, he realized at that point; wanted her more than anything. He couldn't even imagine how much pain she had gone through in the last two years, and he hoped no one had told her about how much _he _had been through. He didn't want her to know what her son had done, what had been done to him. He didn't know if he would ever get rid of the feeling and belief that he was irreversibly dirtied, and he sure as hell didn't want to bring that burden onto his mom, who had without a doubt gone through enough already.

He read a few more pages and then jumped as the phone rang, the binder crashing to the floor as he stood and backed against the wall, panicked. By the second ring, however, he had regained his senses and started to breathe again and hung his head in relief as he realized it had not been someone shouting at him; loud noises startled him for that very reason, he supposed. It had always been so quiet at the house...until He got mad at him.

Reid looked over at where the phone lay on the dresser between the beds, biting his lip and wondering if it was something he should answer. But he wasn't _allowed_ to do that...if it had been his team, they would have known that...right?

The ringing stopped before he had to make a decision, something he was grateful for, and he went back to reading until he heard a car door shut. He peered out the window again to see a black car had pulled up, and he instinctively went to the door and opened it, but was surprised to see that, instead of Garcia or any of the others, Detective Brown got out of the car. Reid nearly shut the door again, but Brown had his hand out in a gesture to wait and said, "Stop."

Reid froze, accustomed to respond to the very tone Brown had taken on, the one that demanded to be obeyed or _else._

Brown looked extremely nervous, his collar up and his hat lowered, hiding his face, and he cleared his throat once he knew he had caught Reid's attention. "You need to come down to the precinct again. There's new evidence. Your team is already down there. Didn't you get a call?"

If Reid hadn't still been a professional at catching lies, he actually might have believed the man. But he must have found the skill buried away somewhere in his head because he just _knew, _getting terrible anxiety from the very idea of going along with this man. He shook his head and quietly said, "Stay," because that's exactly what he needed to do, and Brown's eyes darted side to side for a moment before he said, "_Now_, boy!"

Reid flinched and put his head down, still gripping the door, his thoughts going in every direction, fighting for control of the situation...or rather, fighting to decide who already had it, him or the detective. _Obey. Shut up. Obey. Shut up. __No. No. Don't. Scream. Run. Don't go. No, s__hut up. Obey. Shut up._

"Did you hear me?" Brown hissed, taking a step forward, and Reid mirrored it in the opposite direction, looking over the detective's shoulder in hopes of seeing one of his team pull up to get him out of this situation. Unless...unless they really were down at the precinct...but they couldn't be, right?

"Don't make me hurt you," the man blurted out, angrily. "Is that what you want? Huh? Is it? You want me to hurt you?"

Reid shook his head and trembled, beginning to breathe heavily as he struggled to keep himself calm. "N-no. No sir. Please no."

"Then come with me."

"No..." Reid shook his head, tearful, and the detective reached down to his gun holster, fingering the weapon secured there, before it was suddenly in his hand, pointed at Reid's chest.

"Get in the _fucking_ car." Brown growled, and Reid found himself moving without remembering when exactly he had decided to do so, slowly climbing into the back as the detective opened the door for him. Then, assuring he kept his head low, Brown got into the driver's seat and started the car, hurriedly backing up and exiting onto the main road, driving for a little while, and then at last pulling over onto the grass.

He sat there for a minute, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, staring at Reid in the mirror, and then he got out, opening the back door on the opposite side of the road. He then leaned inside, grabbed Reid's arms, and, despite the agent's sudden—but expected—struggles, managed to handcuff them in front of him. Reid stared up at the man in terror and shrank back against the other door, shaking his head, and Brown sighed heavily. "Don't make me hurt you," he said again, but this time it wasn't so much of a threat; instead, it sounded more like he was pleading with Reid.

Then, he took out what looked like the drug the hospital and the detective had given Reid before and a syringe, his expression unreadable. Reid shrieked, grabbed out at the handle behind him, and shoved the door open, falling out on his back. The landing knocked the air out of him, and he lay gasping for a moment before he heard Brown shout at him and rolled under the car.

"C'mere, you son of a bitch!" Brown got down on the dirt and reached underneath the car for him, hearing a vehicle drive past and cursing the world. Thankfully, however, whoever it was did not stop, and then Brown actually got a hold of Spencer's ankle when the younger man kicked out at his hand. "Well trained my ass!" he said, loudly, and Reid stilled for a moment, long enough that the man could pull him out and then grab his hair, dragging him up by it and manhandling him back into the car, shoving him down onto the floor of it and putting a knee on his chest to keep him there.

"No." Reid whimpered suddenly, and tears started to well up in his eyes. "No. Please. Can't go back."

Brown stared down at the kid for a minute, feeling the other's panicked, heaving breaths under his knee.

"Please. Please. Anything. Anything else. Please, sir. Please."

The detective really hesitated, thoughtful, and then he reached out and grabbed the drug he had been meaning to give the kid anyway.

"No!" Spencer began writhing, and Brown took a handful of his hair again and roughly yanked on it. "Stop it!" he ordered, in the same voice that had made Reid go rigid before...the one his brother had told him to use if the younger started to get out of line. "Stop fighting! You hear me, boy? _Stop!_"

Reid complied surprisingly quickly, going limp and merely crying quietly while Brown rolled Reid's sleeve up, uncapped the needle, shoved it into the bottle, pulled back the plunger far more than he had last time, and then injected it into the bend of Reid's arm. This time Reid felt the effects almost instantly, and by the time Brown got him laying flat on the back seat, the extent of his struggles had dulled to smacking at Brown's arm, so lightly the man hardly felt it, and mumbling incoherently.

Brown waited until the other's eyes had closed and he was undoubtedly asleep before he stepped back out, groaned quietly because _he was so fucked, _and then closed the door.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you guys, you're fantastical! :)**

**P.S. To all my anonymous reviewers I can't reply personally to, THANK YOU TOO!**

**P.S.S. The next chapter will most likely be delayed one week due to midterm exams, so see you in two weeks! **

_**xxx**_

_"We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us."_

― Ken Levine

**11.**

Somehow, even after hours of searching through every inch of the house, there had been no DNA evidence that anyone other than Mariana (whose body had been simply in her room this entire time; a lovely surprise) and the victims had been living in the house, _ever. _It did however give them a more accurate profile—the unsub was either extraordinarily educated in the forensic area, or someone who was had been helping him. In fact, it was almost _too _clean, as if someone had swept over every inch and reassured nothing would be found and that every little thing was in the exact place it should be. And that, considering the size of the house, would have taken severe commitment, if not a daily routine.

That wasn't to say that the place was kept perfect by any means; at least, not the basement, which had practically been the set of a horror film with the chains, dirty mattresses, and red stains on the floor spread about. And in the master bedroom, similar red splotches littered the carpet; faded enough that it was obvious they had been scrubbed as much as possible, but, well, blood wasn't that easy to clean up, especially not in the large quantities that it had clearly been in, and...well, there was no doubt this was the room Spencer's nightmares came from.

Upon seeing this, JJ had stepped out, opting instead to go through Mariana's room. When Prentiss came in to check on her, she cut off anything the other agent was going to say with, "They slept separately. If they were together, it was never on good terms."

"Reid did say the unsub abused her. Maybe it was less because they fought and more because they never got along to begin with."

"And she stayed because she loved him, whether or not he ever loved her."

"You know," Emily said after a moment, uncertain, "Spence could have been...a..."

"A substitute?" JJ sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and trying to remember that she wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the subject. "I don't think we can rule that out."

"It's very likely, actually," Rossi peered his head in at them. "It's likely that the unsub kept him in the room with him."

"So, if the unsub is homosexual," Emily said, "then Spencer might have been the only thing holding this relationship together."

"What relationship?" JJ asked, turning to her and wrinkling her nose. "She kidnapped someone for him to fuck so she could keep getting beat up!"

"JJ!" Emily frowned at her, and she bit the nail of her thumb and uttered an apology.

"We don't know that the unsub abused her all the time," Rossi answered. "Reid wouldn't have seen them at every moment. He could have promised to change once she did that for him..."

"Okay, so she took him so he'd take his anger out on him instead. Great. I can't fuckin' believe—" JJ cut herself off and exhaled sharply. In all reality, she probably should have been able to believe it. They'd had cases like this and worse, much worse...but god, her poor genius..._their_ poor genius. It wasn't fair that it had to have been him...of course, it hadn't been fair that it had to have been anyone at all.

"Why don't you go outside and check on Garcia and Reid?" Rossi recommended softly, and JJ straightened herself up, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "I'm okay. I can handle it."

"I wasn't suggesting you couldn't."

"I know!" JJ snapped, and then took a step back and turned her back to them. "Sorry. I know. Yeah, I'll...go call her. Come get me if you find anything else, though." a

With that, the blonde agent took her cell out and headed down the stairs and onto the back patio. The very moment she was dialing Garcia's number, however, Garcia was dialing _hers, _and so all either of them got was a busy signal, which was, to say the least, frustrating. JJ frowned, decided she would wait a minute or two, and then she heard Hotch shout her name in a sort of panicked tone that he hardly ever had. She rushed back inside to find Morgan on the phone halfway down the stairs, the others surrounding him, and he was yelling, "What the hell does that mean? _What?_"

"What's going on?" JJ felt an awful chill in the pit of her stomach, and she somehow knew before Morgan even looked at her and solemnly choked out, "Reid's gone."

"You...you mean someone...?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what I mean."

"No," she said. "No. No, that's impossible. That's impossible!"

Morgan put the top of the phone to his forehead and closed his eyes; Garcia could be heard breathing heavily on the line. "She left him alone for twenty minutes to get food. They got him on camera but...the bastard hid his face. He was driving a van. No license plate. He had a gun."

"He didn't—did he—?"

"No!" Garcia exclaimed, her voice choked with tears, and Morgan put her on speaker. "It was only on him for a second."

"He's learned to go along with what he's told to do, anyway, remember?" Emily pointed out. "That means it had to have been our unsub, right?"

"Not necessarily." Hotch said, quietly, and his eyes were dark. "We know one other person he responded submissively to...even without a weapon."

"Besides everyone?" Morgan retorted, and then JJ gasped. "No way. He wouldn't."

"Who?" Morgan's eyes went from Hotch to JJ and back again, and then it clicked. "Oh—oh _fuck—_I'll kill him!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rossi exclaimed, catching Morgan's arm as he tried to pass him.

"Let go!"

"We don't have any proof! He could have nothing to do with this."

"Really? After all that shit he pulled at the precinct, you believe he's innocent?"

Rossi grimaced and held out a hand. "Just, wait a minute. Garcia?" he said after a moment, "What vehicle does Detective Brown drive?"

"Ah...um..." she sighed. "Not a van."

"Shit!" Morgan struck the wall with his fist, knocking several picture frames off.

"Oh, no. Oh, god. Sir?" Garcia began, shakily. "Detective Brown never showed up for work today."

_**xxx**_

For having done the absolute unthinkable only minutes before, Brown was surprisingly calm. Shaky, yes, just a bit—and he kept looking in the rear-view mirror to assure he wasn't being followed—but that paranoia he supposed was to be expected. He had just re-kidnapped a federal agent…this was the end of his life as he had known it. He had spent the entire day rethinking it all, deciding whether or not he should go through with it all.

But he owed his life to his brother anyway, and had been paying off that debt for the past ten years. Really, it was his fault, and he was doing this for a good reason…it was just one annoying kid, and this way, no one else would have to be hurt, especially not Brown himself. That was a good reason…that was a good reason…that _had _to be a good reason...right?

The younger man whined in the back seat, making Brown jump, but thankfully, when he glanced back, he saw Reid was still unconscious, though he was covered in a thin layer of sweat and his brow was furrowed. _Shit,_ Brown thought; he hadn't thought of possible side effects...he didn't even _know_ them, if he was being honest. He'd only been supposed to give him around half the dose he had just administered, but...he'd just wanted to make the other sleep, or at least tired enough he couldn't cause any trouble. That was it. He couldn't risk this all going to shit...not after everything. And no matter how behaved his brother had attempted to convince him Reid was, he hadn't been about to take the chance.

Or maybe he just didn't want to see Reid's face, or his expressions, or hear any desperate pleas for the other to reconsider. Maybe he didn't want to question his own actions, ones he knew were wrong but was willfully deciding to ignore. It wasn't his job to ask questions anymore. This was a simple trade; the agent for his own freedom. He could do this. _Right?_

It was twenty minutes that felt like an eternity before his cell began to ring, and he took out the battery without bothering to look at the ID. It was probably the precinct…or the FBI team…but who cared? He was done with all that. He didn't have a choice in the matter; really, though, had he _ever?_

In the empty back-lot of a relatively ignored corner store, the car he was supposed to stop before sat idling, and he very slowly pulled up beside it thirty minutes later than the time that had been agreed on. Then, after a moment of calming his nerves, he got out, took the lanky agent in his arms, and then made his way over to the vehicle. With a bit of difficulty, he managed to get his hand free enough to open the passenger door.

"No. In the back."

Brown cleared his throat and then got the other door open, laying the younger man across the backseat. Reid groaned but did not wake, and so Brown shut him in and went over to the driver's side window. "So…we're good, right?"

"Mm."

"Did...did you get the stuff? The...the passport?"

"No, actually. I changed my mind."

"What? No, no, you said—"

"Get in."

"What?" And Brown didn't get the chance to hear a response as the door slammed out against him, knocking him to the ground in a daze. Before he could get up, something cracked into the back of his head, and he hit the pavement for good this time.

The driver calmly placed his gun back into the glove compartment, got out, picked his brother up under his arms, and dragged him into the passenger seat. Once all three were in the car, he leisurely glanced around (though knew he had no reason to worry) and then started the car.

By this point, Reid was just conscious enough to feel the vehicle jerk into motion, to hear several horns honking as the driver presumably cut them off. It took a second for him to remember what had happened through the fog clouding his thoughts, and even that small action seemed to exhaust him again. That fucking detective...his team would never let him get away this...his friends would keep him safe...his family wouldn't let him be hurt again. They'd cut him off, never let him get to where he was going, never let him take Reid back to Him...

And then—

"Oh, pet...I've missed you."

His breath catching in his throat, Reid managed to glance up to find the same face that haunted his every move smiling back at him. He immediately, weakly, flung out his hand towards the direction of the door, hoping he was close enough to reach it, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he wouldn't have been able to go anywhere even if he succeeded in opening it.

"No, no. Stop that."

The awful, infuriating instinct to comply with the voice made him go limp again, and then he opened his mouth to cry out in anger, failing to do so and instead emitting a pitiful groan. This was a dream...a nightmare...this couldn't be real...

The Man chuckled, very quietly, and Reid might have gotten sick if he hadn't been so tired he could no longer keep his eyes open. _So_ tired...so unbearably..._overwhelmingly_ tired...

"Sleep now, pet. I'll still be here when you wake up."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Happy Holiday Season! For whatever you celebrate, I hope it's amazing! :)**

**Reviews are super pleasing, thank you to everyone who's done so along with favoriting/following so far!**

**WARNINGS:**** Abuse, implied (past) non-con.**

_**xxx**_

_"Why am I letting you comfort me?"  
__He stared over her head. __"Because I've made sure you have no one else to turn to."_

— Kresley Cole, Lothaire

**12.**

Brown came to sometime later, disoriented, with a blindingly painful headache he could hardly think straight through. He opened his eyes, slowly, and found himself looking directly into his brother's face, which startled him enough he gasped.

"Good! You're awake. Sorry about that."

"Oh, God...oh, I think I've got a concussion…" the detective groaned, trying to reach up to rub his head and finding he couldn't, eventually finding it was because his wrists were zip-tied behind him. He finally looked around, blinking hard, realizing he was sitting in a chair in the living room of a place he did not recognize. "Where the hell…?"

"A friend of work's place."

"Okay…why am I tied up?"

"Oh," the other man said softly, like maybe he hadn't noticed, and then shrugged and turned around, pacing over to the other side of the room and then looking back.

"Wyatt…?"

"Shut up," he said, and Brown bit his tongue.

There was a moan from behind Brown, and he strained his head around to see the FBI agent lying on the floor, holding his head with both hands, grimacing. Brown looked back at his brother, and before he could ask why the hell the kid wasn't restrained while _he_ was, Wyatt smiled. "I told you. He'll do whatever I say. _You_, on the other hand…"

"I always do what you want!"

"Would you have come with me?"

Brown hesitated, and his brother clicked his tongue. "See? And anyway, I'm doing you a favor, Garrett. Your career is over…you know that, right?"

"It was already over," Brown replied. "I haven't solved a solo case in years."

"Well I'm making sure my brother doesn't go to jail. I mean, I did tell you I would do that, didn't I?"

"Y-yeah. I mean, yeah."

Wyatt's smile returned, and then his attention went to Reid. The agent was sitting up now, watching them both in fear. _  
_

"Come here, pet."

Reid let out a loud sob but obeyed, getting to his feet and going over to stand in front of Wyatt, his head down.

"See?" Wyatt gestured at him while looking at his brother, and then he grabbed Reid's jacket and pulled him into a possessive kiss. Reid quietly whined because he knew this was The Man claiming His ownership over him yet again, and it was somehow more painful than any punishment he'd ever been forced to endure. "Good boy," Wyatt pet the younger man's hair when he was done, glancing at his brother for a reaction.

Brown had no expression, holding whatever he felt, if anything at all, inside, and simply nodded emotionlessly. Reid wondered then if, as much as Brown acted like he was independent and tough and dominant, he was just as much a slave to The Man as Reid was. He wondered how long the now ex-detective had been bowing to every whim his brother had—his whole life? He'd kidnapped Reid for Him, for God's sake…he was far more emotionally invested in The Man than Reid would ever allow himself to be. Going as far as put an innocent person back into the hands of this monster? Something awful must have happened to him to be as fucked up as that.

Wyatt lowered his hand to the agent's lower back, which the younger flinched at, and then began to lead him past Brown.

"Wait—let me go?" Brown asked, almost pleaded, and Reid could've laughed. Brown looked and sounded pathetic…afraid, almost, but not quite. Which was a shame, because he deserved to be afraid, to be in pain, to fucking suffer for what he'd just done to Reid. He wished he'd hit the man harder back at the precinct—wish he'd fucking _killed _him.

"When I can watch you again…when I'm sure you've come around. Don't you dare try to get up." Wyatt said, and Reid glared daggers at the bastard while he walked by.

Brown immediately looked away, and Reid thought he had caught a glimpse of a guilty expression on the other's face.

_Too late now._

"Oh, pet," Wyatt breathed into Reid's ear, moving his hands to the younger's shoulders as he led him down the hall to what Reid already was aware was a bedroom. He was too used to it again already, and although tears burned behind his eyes he did not allow them to fall.

"It's been a long week, hasn't it?" The Man asked, locking the door behind them, and Reid fearfully took a few steps back, his hands behind his back in an attempt to show he had no intention of fighting, of doing anything at all. God, He was going to be so mad, He already _was_ mad, and He would beat him senseless again…

"I needed some time to clear my head, of course, after Marian…and was surprised to find you and the children gone when I came back. Was it you who decided to break my rules? Hm, pet? Was it?"

"I'm so sorry, Master," Reid whimpered, hanging his head in shame. "I'm so sorry."

"Is sorry good enough, pet? After all this mess you've gotten us into, gotten me into?"

"No, sir. No."

Wyatt gestured for the other to come closer, reaching down to take out his belt, double it, and hold it up. Reid's legs gave out at the very sight, sending him to his knees. He clasped his hands in front of him and shook his head. "Please, Master, please no. Please. I'm sorry."

"Don't make me more angry, pet; it won't be pretty. Now be a good boy and take off your shirt."

**THEN**  
**(1 Year 5 Months)**

_Reid probably would have enjoyed being let outside after so long if it hadn't been forty degrees, raining, and pitch black. The house did not have a back porch light, nor any sort of awning, and he was handcuffed to the railing of the stairs that led from the deck to the ground. Trapped, to be blunt; as if he was ever anything else. Except normally he was trapped _inside_, where it was warm and…well, dry. And out here, he was freezing and shivering and afraid because he had no idea when his Master was going to let him back in—if He was going to at all; it had been hours since anyone had come out. He'd fucked up, and he knew that…worse than he had in months. He had tried to stop The Man from hitting Marian—got in the way, really—and then shoved The Man's hands away. But she had actually been nice to Reid all day, and had even allowed him to eat without telling Him (after he hadn't in at least a day and a half), something Reid thought deserved a favor in return. And then, as if that hadn't been bad enough, he'd said, "Stop!" as if he were allowed to give orders, as if he was anything but a worthless whore, and it had frozen both Him and Marian…before she, probably to save herself, slapped Reid hard enough he fell and shouted, "Don't you ever touch him again! Ever!"_

_"I—I'm sorry!" he had tried, but it had done no good at all while Marian kicked him several times while The Man looked on, probably impressed, possibly merciful, at least to her. And then He had had His belt around Spencer's neck before he could even recover, only this time it wasn't to choke him (something He seemed to take pleasure in at times), it was to leash him. "What haven't I tried with you, boy? You've been so good for so long…"_

_"M-Master—please! I'm sorry!"_

_"Is sorry good enough?"_

_"No, sir. No."_

_And then He had dragged Reid to his feet, forced him outside, knocked him to his knees, and used the handcuffs He so often did in His bedroom to attach him to the railings._

_"I'm sorry…Master, p-please."_

_"Maybe you'll appreciate everything I've done for you after a night out here. Maybe you'll think next time you want to disrespect me. You scream, I'll kill every last one of those shits downstairs. You hear me?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_Then He had gone back inside, slamming the door, and after several hours Reid had never regretted anything more in his life. He was soaked through to the bone, and he was starting to have trouble staying awake. He was going to die out here, cold and all alone, all because he'd tried to protect someone who didn't even really deserve being protected. He would never have done that with Him—so why her? She could be just as vicious! Although… it wasn't constant…and she had never forced herself on him, which made her better in Reid's eyes. And he knew that The Man's violent outbursts were terribly painful…but he couldn't even save himself from those; why even try to for her? Why had he ever laid a finger on Him? He wasn't supposed to touch; he was only supposed to be touched. That was what he was here for, and that was what he had accepted. And he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he had thrown his record of obedience to shit. The Man might never trust him with anything ever again._

_Daylight was just beginning to fall over the tops of the trees when the door finally opened, but Spencer did not hear it. He was curled into himself on the steps, absolutely still, to the point where The Man wasn't quite sure he was even breathing until He touched the younger man's shoulder and he groaned._

_"Time's up, pet. Do you think you've learned your lesson?"_

_The raspy reply was a bunch of stammered nonsense that He ignored, unlocking the handcuffs and then cupping His pet's pale white face in His hands. "Hm? Are you sorry?"_

_Reid's eyes fluttered and his arm twitched. "I—I—m-m-s—" he managed before he cut off to cough and painfully wheeze in enough breath to choke out, "S-s-sor-r-ry."_

_The Man smiled and, surprisingly gently, picked the younger up in His arms. "Good. That's a good boy," He cooed, and Reid immediately huddled against His warmth, sniffling, tightly grabbing onto His jacket like it was his lifeline and burying his numb face into it. "S-s-sor-ry. Ma-Mast-ter. L-lo-love y-you. P-p…pl…pleas-se. D-d-don't-t l-leav-ve m-me."_

_"Okay, pet. Good. We'll get you warmed up…and then you can repay me for saving you, hm? For being so kind?"_

_Barely conscious, practically cuddling the person who only ever hurt him, Reid suddenly understood why he had acted so impulsively before—he had wanted the kindness Marian had only recently been showing him to continue. And maybe he had thought that saving her from a few blows was going to ensure that, or maybe he had been caught up in a moment from his past, where doing heroic shit like that was good, or maybe…maybe it had been instinctual, the same protectiveness he got when it came to the kids, who were, undoubtedly, kind to him. Maybe he had believed for a moment that something good could happen, that maybe eventually, she would be kind enough to free them, to stop The Man from beating another one of them, to do anything that someone _humane_ wouldn't hesitate to do._

_But he had been delusional; fantasizing again. He must have known somewhere in him, even then, that doing something like that, acting out so abruptly, would bring nothing but misery. She was not kind anymore than He was compassionate; they were _not_ humane. They were not human. They were monsters. And he had known that before…and he had foolishly allowed a sliver of hope, of his old self, of his old life to slip back into his head._

_He would never make that mistake again; not ever._

_"Y-yes-s-sir," he agreed finally, and then he wearily lifted his head and kissed his Master with his frozen lips, startling Him, and then he whimpered when He pulled His head away. He wanted love. He wanted love. He wanted to _be_ loved. He didn't want anymore pain, anymore nights in the basement, anymore nights outside, anymore beatings from misbehaving, anymore hatred and rage because of what he would stupidly do. He wanted love. He wanted to be loved. He wanted_ love!

_The Man smirked and chuckled, because it had been the first time that His pet had acted this affectionate, this adoring of Him of his own free will. Finally, He thought as He carried the cold and broken man—_His_ broken man—inside and up to His bedroom, and then got him out of his wet clothes and wrapped him in blankets because what good would he be if his teeth kept chattering together? He sat beside the younger and pet his hair until his face had regained color and he was relatively lucid. Or maybe not, because when The Man stopped petting him he turned his head, eyes half closed, and stammered, "M-Master?"_

_"Yes, pet?" The Man leaned back, in a mood that Reid rarely saw…that he wanted to see more of. He could make this work. He wanted to make this work. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to remember, not ever again. He would be good. He would be more than good—he would be the submissive nothing that He wanted. He would do it. He would do it all. Whatever He wanted._

_"I love you, Master," he said, and the lie spilled over his tongue as easy as the truth would have; maybe he couldn't tell the difference anymore. He crawled out of the blankets and sat next to The Man, and then repeated himself, and He stared at him for a long moment, like He was trying to decide what to do with this, and then..._

_"Show me how much, pet."_

_So Reid did._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you all so much! Hope you enjoy! Reviews and feedback, as always, are incredibly appreciated.  
**

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x

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I am proud to present a new segment,_  
_

_Replies to Anonymous Reviews That Try To Tell Me How and What to Write:_

Anon 1: No.

Anon 2: No.

This concludes this week's segment of _Replies to Anonymous Reviews That Try To Tell Me How and What to Write.  
_

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x

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**WARNINGS: Implied non-con and mentions of past sexual abuse of children from a family member.****  
**

**xxx**

_"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that __something else is more important than fear." _

― James Neil Hollingworth

**13.**

"You remember me telling you about my step-brother, don't you, pet?"

Reid wearily blinked up at The Man as He settled down on the bed beside him, a hand on the younger's back, which He had managed to strike entirely raw in only twenty-three strokes, only continuing to injure it afterwards so Reid would cry under Him like He liked. Reid shuddered and whined, which only made Him hurt it more until he answered, "No, sir." If He wanted to talk, He was going to talk, and Reid was going to listen.

"Hm. I could've sworn I spoke about it. I won't hide what he did, pet. He allowed his father to touch me, all because he didn't want it to happen to him anymore. Our entire childhood, after my mother married him, after he beat her into compliance…she knew, all along, but she said nothing. Garrett said nothing. And so it continued, and eventually became normal, until one day I came home to find our father at the bottom of the stairs, dead. Garrett was sitting at the top, and I knew what he had done.

"He would do anything I wanted to keep me from saying anything, from doing that to our mother, who, by that time, was already extremely unstable, and so I did. She killed herself anyway a few months later, and when she made my brother promise to make it up to me—as if anyone ever could—Garrett was even more willing. More than willing. He would do _anything._ That's how I was able to get you back, pet. He doesn't agree with what I've done, with any of it, and I know that. But he won't do anything about it. He never has...and he never will."

"M-M—" Reid stammered, staring at The Man like He was absolutely crazy—because He _fucking was_—and He scowled, slapping the expression off his face. "Excuse me?"

"...Why...?"

"Why did I claim you? Hm? Is that what you want to know, pet?" He chuckled. "Because I can. Because I have. Because after a while, I realized how powerful it felt to control...just like our father did. Garrett of course thought I was having a breakdown, but I wasn't. I wasn't. I wanted control. I _need _to control. And I fucking _will_ control you, you hear?" He struck Reid's back, causing him to shriek. "Don't think this changes anything. I'm only telling you this so you can stop having that pathetic look on your face every time you look at him. He was against you from the start; this was the plan from the start. You never had a chance, boy. You're mine. You will never get away again. And when this all blows over, we'll go somewhere else. I'll get another job...it'll just be you and I. How about that, hmm?" He was smiling now, and Reid was shaking under His hand. _Don't touch me. Stop touching me. Please! Please stop!_

"It's okay, pet. This just means we won't have anything to interrupt us for a while."

Reid sobbed, just once, and then buried his head into the pillow to stifle himself, or maybe suffocate himself...whichever was easier.

"Wyatt!"

Wyatt rolled his eyes at his brother's yell, and then stood and pointed at the bed. "Stay."

"Yes, sir." Reid mumbled against the fabric, but as soon as the door closed (and before he was even aware of what he was doing) he was on his feet, grabbing his clothes and locking himself into the bathroom, where he had noticed a window on the wall of the shower, its glass tinted and blurred but..._glass._ Struggling back into his clothing, he wondered what the hell had gotten into him. He was going to pay for this—but his freedom had been in his hands only half a day before! And now he had The Man's name, he could put Him away for life! He could save himself, and the kids, and any other victim He had ever taken the life of. He couldn't give up now...he simply couldn't. He wouldn't let himself become what he had been before...

He wouldn't let himself become what The Man was now. That wasn't an option.

He thrust open the cabinet and searched for something he could break through it with, finding nothing, and then his eyes landed on the lid on the back tank of the toilet, something that looked dangerous enough if he swung it. It was heavy...but would it break glass? He had one chance before someone heard, maybe once more after that...what if it didn't work? He'd be cuffed to something and immobile for the rest of the time he was here—he wouldn't have a third try.

But in the off chance it _did _pay off...

He lifted it up with a grunt, getting a firm grip on it, his hands far enough apart that he prayed it would support it enough it would not just immediately snap in half. He stepped into the tub, held it to the glass, and then hesitated. Could he really do this? Jennifer, Morgan, his mother—everyone would want him to be strong. They would want him to fight! But...could he really disobey Him like he hadn't in a year and a half?

He heard a shout from the bedroom and decided immediately that _yes he fucking could, _swinging the lid as hard as his aching body would let him, hearing _something_ break, and then—

"Boy! What the fuck are you doing?!" The Man screeched from the other side of the door, trying to knock it down, and Reid yelped, striking the glass twice more before a quarter of the lid chipped off and fine lines cracked through the window. With one last attempt, the glass finally shattered, showering him with broken shards that cut into him as he grabbed the frame and began trying to lift himself up and out of it. "Help!" he shrieked, as loud as he could, and when he finally managed to get up, he heard the door burst open, and hands were grabbing out—and _missing_ as Reid scrambled out onto the grass on all fours. He couldn't fucking _breathe_, and he felt faint, but he forced himself to get the hell up and sprint towards the street where headlights were coming down towards him. He waved his hands around, desperate, and the car pulled to a stop beside him. A middle aged man in a baseball cap and jersey got out, clearly confused, along with another shorter passenger Reid couldn't make out the features of, and Reid couldn't manage to do anything but repeat himself. "Help..."

"Jeremy!"

Reid heard The Man's voice behind him, and the driver turned at the name, and Reid realized too late that this man would _not_ help him, and he only got one step further before Jeremy grabbed his arm, his nails digging into Reid's skin in a warning to _stop._

"No! No!" Reid pulled away from him only for the newcomer to grab his wrist, then both when he tried to free himself again, his grip so tight it was painful, and then Reid, unable to think of anything else he could do, lashed out with his foot and caught the man between his legs. The breath whooshed out of the older and he released Reid as he dropped to his knees.

Spencer staggered back, trembling, and once he realized that He had almost reached him, His face the epitome of rage, his adrenaline spiked and his body suddenly didn't hurt anymore and he fucking _ran_, as fast as he could manage, around the car and back in the direction it had come from. It only occurred to him then that he was _insane_, and that once He caught him He would kill him or _worse,_ but he couldn't stop now, not when he heard The Man shouting at Jeremy to get up and follow him, heard the engine revving and tires screeching.

"Help!" Reid tried to shout, but he didn't have the breath because he had to run, he had to run and never, ever, _ever_ stop.

This was not the place he had been kept at before—there were houses everywhere, and he had the ability to run to any of them; he knew that.

But what if they were like Him? What if they were like this Jeremy? What if they were like His neighbors? What if they would laugh at his pain and struggles and turn him right back over? Or they could slam the door back in his face, and he'd have wasted time and He would be upon him again. Or they could be just like Him. They could take him too, chain him back up in a dark room and maybe never let him go. He could get away from one monster and find himself with another, maybe even someone worse, if that was possible. He didn't want to _know _if that was possible.

All of the windows and porches seemed to be dark, anyway—who knew if someone would even answer in time to help him if they wanted to? It was the middle of the night, and no one would believe he was a federal agent without a badge, especially with how he looked, which was probably more like a homeless runaway in withdrawal more than anything else.

He heard the screeching of the car on the pavement again, too close to him, and he ducked off the road and into someone's yard, crouching down in the dirt beside their front stairs, in hopes that the shadows would cover him. The vehicle slowed, pulled over, and stopped one house down, and Reid tried to quiet his gasps, just waiting, frozen, for one of them to get out and haul him back.

Only, they didn't. The car just sat there, idling, and Reid realized with a grin that they didn't know where he was. He was safe.

Or at least he _had_ been, until the porch light of the house he was beside clicked on, and the door opened, and an older woman's voice started exclaiming, "Don't think I can't see you! Get off my property! I told you I'd call the cops next time I saw you, you bastard!"

Reid didn't move, praying to God that, somehow, she didn't mean _him, _and then she hit the wooden banister with a broom stick and then waved it down towards him, something he flinched back at. "You hear me? Get!"

"Please—I'm—"

"She doesn't want anythin' to do with you! She wants you gone! And by god, you better _be_ gone before her daddy gets home, or—"

"C-call the—" Spencer hit the dirt again as he heard a car door slam, and shakily raised his head as he heard someone call out, "Ryan? C'mon, it's too early for this. It's not funny anymore. We're gonna be late."

"Help me." he whimpered, desperately looking up at the woman, but her attention was no longer on him. Instead, it was on Jeremy, as he casually jogged his way up to her and held his hands out. "Ma'am, I am so sorry, my son—"

"_Your_ son?" the woman squinted back over at where Reid was, and Reid started to slowly move back. He could run. He could make it. He could make it _somewhere. _He had to. He had to, or he was going to die.

"I thought he was the Johnson's kid! He's been stalkin' out here practically every mornin' waitin' for my daughter to 'come to her senses' and whatnot. They went on one date, two weeks ago! I wish I was kiddin'!"

Jeremy blinked very slowly at her, and no one in the world could have missed the utter impatience for her on his face except, apparently, _her_. Despite that, he forced a smile and then nodded, and nonchalantly waved at Reid. "So sorry to have bothered you, ma'am. My son's got a tendency to be a little dramatic. Family reunion across the state this morning...acts like it's a death sentence!"

Reid bolted around the side of the house, making it to the fence of the backyard and halfway up it before Jeremy caught up, yanking him back down and throwing him to the ground. Reid cried out, and Jeremy clicked his tongue before pulling him up by his hair and shoving him against the wall to their left. "You fucking say a word, I'll kill them." He brought a handgun out from his coat pocket and pressed it under Reid's chin. "You try to run again, I'll kill _you_. You hear me?" he asked, and when Reid was silent, he cocked it and pressed harder, spitting out each word individually. "Do. You. Hear. Me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Walk past her. Smile. Don't be trying to send messages. You've already fucked up once. I'm telling you, one wrong word..."

"Yes, sir."

"You better say that like you mean it."

"_Yes,_ sir!"

"Good." Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, put on another grin and, holding Reid tightly by his wrist, walked back around, giving the woman a final wave. "Again, my apologies."

"Eh, I was up anyway. Not a big deal." She nodded, and then frowned. "You alright, hon?"

_God, no. _"Yes, ma'am."

"Behave yourself then! I'm sure you'll have fun." She gave him a smile, and it was a struggle for him to give one back.

Jeremy nodded his head towards her and bid her goodnight, and then, once he was sure she had gone back inside, the porch light turning off, he led Reid back to the car, opened the back door, and shoved him in. Reid fell onto the floor, trembling, and then Jeremy got back in the car and began driving.

"I'm sorry!" Reid exclaimed after a second, and Jeremy scoffed. "I'm sorry...please...please don't...can't go back!"

"Shoulda thought of that before, hm?"

"Please! Please, sir! I'll do anything!"

Jeremy took the gun out of his coat and put the barrel in one of the cup holders, a clear threat, and Reid sat up, bringing his knees to his chest, trying to fit behind the driver's seat, out of the line of (possible) fire. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Jeremy did not speak the rest of the time, and Reid had just managed to stop his crying before the car came to a stop and turned off, and then the tears only ended up coming back with a vengeance as he fully acknowledged how much trouble he was in. Jeremy exited and came around to open the back door, grabbing him by his hair and pulling him out onto the grass.

"Please! Please!" he sobbed, "He'll kill me!"

Jeremy used his other hand to grab the younger man by his neck and squeeze hard enough the other choked. "Good," he growled, and then he hauled Spencer up and to his feet, shoving him along with the gun against his back. As soon as they got to the door, it opened, and The Man stood there, seething, His teeth clenched, and Spencer stared up at Him with wide, petrified eyes as Jeremy pushed past Him and disappeared.

Before he could do anything else, before he could _think, _The Man dragged Reid inside, shook him violently, menacingly spat, "You're_ dead_, whore," and slammed the door shut again.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Happy New Year's guys! Here's to a fantastic 2015 full of happiness and love! And of course, new episodes of awesome shows. Also, there'll be s****ome actual "/comfort" stuff starting next chapter, promise! :)**

**Reviews are so lovely and so very appreciated, as always! **

**WARNINGS: Implied/threatened non-con (past), and some pretty terrible physical abuse.**

_**xxx**_

_"The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it." _

― Albert Einstein

**14.**

**10 Minutes Earlier**

"Wyatt, this is wrong."

After pacing nonstop for the entire time he'd been back inside the house, waiting for either police sirens or Jeremy to return with _that _piece of shit, Wyatt finally stopped and glared at his brother, who was still secured to the chair.

Brown looked regretful immediately. "You...you know it's wrong."

"Are you patronizing me?"

"No!"

"It sounds like it!"

"I'm not, I'm not." Brown shook his head, shrugging helplessly. "Wyatt..."

"_What?_"

Brown cringed at the sudden shout and then lowered his head. "Nothing," he mumbled, and Wyatt walked over to him and cupped a hand under his chin, bringing the other's eyes up to meet his again. "What?"

"_Nothing_." He tried to move his head back, but Wyatt held it in place, giving him a tiny smile. "You could have gone to the police the second you saw me with him, two years ago, but did you?"

"N-no."

"That's right." Wyatt released the other and turned around, satisfied when he heard Brown suck in a quick, shaky breath and choke back something that might have been a cry. Wyatt knew he remembered, that day when he had come to drop off some things Wyatt had asked for, without question, as always—even a pair of professional handcuffs. Hell, if Wyatt had asked for a gun instead of buying it himself, his brother would have given it to him. He knew that.

And unfortunately, Brown knew that too. He would do anything and everything for Wyatt, and it sometimes disgusted him. Especially when he thought about what he had just done, or what he _hadn't _done the afternoon he had seen what he had been trying to ignore and forget ever since. It'd all been fine; a visit to see his brother, small talk, the usual...until there'd been a muffled crash from somewhere that couldn't be pinpointed, and Wyatt had turned for a moment, sighed angrily, and then looked back at Garrett.

**THEN  
(5 Days)**

_"Is this a bad time?" Brown asked, innocently, and Wyatt clenched his teeth. "Yeah."_

_"Oh…oh, okay. I'll just…I'll go. Sorry."_

_"That'd be best. And don't come by anymore without telling me. Christ."_

_"Sure. Sure. Okay."_

_Another loud sound made Wyatt fist his hands and push his brother towards the door. "Show yourself out, will ya?"_

_"Yeah…"_

_"Great." Wyatt mumbled, and then cursed under his breath as he went to the door under the staircase, his hand on the knob, and then glared at Brown in a warning to leave._

_Brown did so, but didn't quite shut the door behind him. Instead, he waited a moment, and then peered back in, reentered, and slowly made his way over to the staircase. He heard his brother saying something, but couldn't quite make it out, and so he went a few steps down into the basement—he was just helping…right? In case Wyatt was in trouble?—and bent down to see._

_"Holy shit," he breathed out as he fully took in the sight of the guy that was _chained to the fucking ceiling,_ hanging there with his feet only just touching the ground, and Wyatt grabbing his face to silence his cry as the older man dug his fingers into the younger's waist. "You're gonna do what I say, you hear me? Huh?" And then Wyatt cursed loudly and jumped back, looking down at his hand. "You little fucker!"_

_"Don't put shit in my mouth!"_

_Wyatt laughed, shaking his hand by his side. "Still upset about that, are we?"_

_"Fuck you!"_

_"Patience...there'll be time for that."_

_"Don't you touch me!"_

_"I can do whatever I want to you."_

_"No!"_

_"Yes."_

_The guy spat in Wyatt's direction, hitting somewhere on his person, and then jerked his head forward when Wyatt went to slap his mouth. Wyatt cursed again and pulled away, and then kicked the guy between his legs, eliciting a sharp cry. "You try that again, I'll knock your fucking teeth out."_

_"Go…to…hell!"_

_"Oh, you're already here." Wyatt moved his hands to wrap around the other's neck, and __Brown stared, open-mouthed and completely immobilized, as his brother choked this guy—this kid—until he stopped moving. Brown himself must have then made a noise because Wyatt suddenly turned to look at him, surprised, releasing the other, who thankfully began coughing and gasping._

_"Oh, brother…" Wyatt said, scornfully, shaking his head. "I wish you hadn't seen that."_

_But Brown _had_ seen. He stood and hurriedly went back up the stairs, shaking, and then left the house, got into his car, drove home, and locked himself inside to think of what to do._

_Of course, he ended up doing nothing at all. _

**NOW**

After a long few minutes of silence, composing himself, Brown nodded and bit his lip. "Okay. Whatever you want."

"It always is, hm, brother?"

"Yeah. Yes."

"You look sad...but...aren't you the one who brought him back for me? Aren't you the one who helped me clean the house so there was no evidence left? The one who taught me how to properly do that in the first place?"

"Yes..."

"Then shut up." Wyatt waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Really, do you care more about him than me? Than making it all up to me? Than what mother told you to do?"

"_No_. No. Never."

"Good. Garrett, he loves me. He's just confused. He won't be after I'm through with him tonight. It won't happen again. It'll be fine. Don't worry."

"Okay. Okay." He frowned and tugged on his arms pointedly. "Can you let me up now? I have to take a piss."

"Are you going to try to get out, too?"

"No! Christ!"

Wyatt looked him over suspiciously before getting the scissors from the kitchen to clip the ties around his brother's wrists, allowing him to stand. He then placed a hand on the other's shoulder, establishing his dominance as Brown instantly stopped. "Don't make me hurt you, too."

Brown agreed quietly, and then Wyatt turned to look out the window as he heard a car door slam. He cursed several times before going over to the door and jerking it open to see the little bastard staring at him like he was _surprised _Wyatt was mad.

"You're_ dead_, whore." Wyatt said, shaking him roughly, and then forced him back inside, threw him onto the living room rug, and kicked him in the stomach. "What the hell were you _thinking?_" he exclaimed, and when Reid could only splutter nonsense he looked over at Jeremy, who now had a bottle of beer in his hand and a sour expression on his face. "What the fuck happened?"

"He ran a few blocks over...wouldn't have found him if it hadn't been for that _nice_ old lady, right, kid?"

"Someone saw him?" He bent down next to Reid and grabbed his face. "Someone saw you? Huh?"

His pet cried harder, nodding, and Wyatt slapped him so hard he went silent for a second, stunned. "You little _shit!_"

"I-I'm-m s-sorry M-Master! I'm sorry! Please!"

"No! Shut up! Do you realize what you've done? Do you? I'm gonna fucking kill you! You don't get to beg!"

"Please..."

"What'd I just say? Huh?" Wyatt stood up and drove his shoe into the other's side again. "What'd I just say?"

"I can't beg! I'm sorry, sir!" Reid gasped, and when he tried to shield himself, twisting over so his back was facing The Man, He only kicked him there, too, which caused such an intense amount of pain that he nearly blacked out, deciding that being hit anywhere else would be more desirable than _that._ In the brief moment that Wyatt stepped back, scowling down at him, Reid managed to scramble away and get to his feet, panting, staggering back and looking for anything that he could protect himself with. His eyes landed on a half empty bottle of beer on the table beside him, and he froze, uncertain.

"You touch that," Wyatt growled, "and I'll break it and shove it up your ass."

Reid paled, because he knew that anything The Man said when He was this angry was _not _a bluff. He lowered the hand he hadn't realized had been raised, as if reaching for it, and took a few steps to the side.

"Come here!"

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Come _here!_"

Trembling, Reid obeyed, and then He grabbed his neck and brought him closer until their noses were touching. "You lay down there, and you shut the fuck up, and you _stay_ there. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," he said, almost a whisper, and then he dropped to his knees and lowered his head.

"I said, _lay down!_" The Man shouted, and Reid flinched, crumpling the rest of the way down and crying out as he felt His shoe crash into his side again, and then again, and then His fist, until he lost track of everything except how much it hurt. "Please!" he tried one last time, but it only made Him more angry and therefore more violent, and so finally he simply curled up, went limp, and took it like he was supposed to, because maybe then he'd be allowed to continue the life that everyone here seemed to think was worthless.

"Stop!" Brown finally exclaimed, closing his hands into fists, unable to watch any more, and yet Wyatt refused to even acknowledge him. Jeremy had, by now, gone to some room down the hall and shut himself away from the situation all together, although for a while he had stood there, arms crossed, just observing as the younger man was pummeled into his own living room floor with an expression that made it seem as if he was only worried about his rug being ruined.

Of course, that was all Brown was doing either...observing. And, terribly guilty, he left the room, just the same as Jeremy, and just the same as always, he locked himself away.

"You little shit," Wyatt spat again once he'd finished, breathing hard, and then he knelt beside Reid, grabbed his hand, and bent it forward enough that he cried out. "Remember what I told you I'd do last time if you ran again? What I _promised_ to do? Huh?"

"Yssrr..."

"What'd I say?"

"Yssrr."

"No, what did I _say?_"

Reid licked his lips and winced when all he could taste was blood; it was a struggle just to keep his eyes open, let alone make his voice work. "Y...s'd y'd...brr...'ist."

"What?" Wyatt smacked the younger man's cheek so he would come to. "Speak up!"

"S'd you...w'd br...br'k m'ist. M'ist. M' wrist."

"Good. You do remember."

Reid whimpered when He pulled harder on his hand. "D'nt. Please. Please don't."

"You couldn't have just stayed in bed, huh, pet? Avoided all of this?" The Man clicked His tongue and shook His head, and Reid blinked hard up at Him. "'m so s'ry, M'ster. Please. I'm sorry."

"Now I'm faced with going against my own word, or having you useless and crying all the time."

"D'nt have to." Reid weakly jerked on his arm. "L'go. Please. Don't. I'll be good. I'll be s' good."

"Will you, pet?"

"Y-yes, Master."

"How do I know you won't try to run away from me again?"

"'Cause 'm y'rs. I'm yours."

"And?"

"I love you. I love you, Master."

"That's good, pet. That's very good."

Reid huffed out a breath of relief as he was released and The Man stood up, and he heard His footsteps retreating. He sounded calmer, sounded like maybe He wasn't going to hurt him anymore—he was hurt already. He'd learned. He'd learned his lesson. He didn't need anymore...he couldn't _take _anymore...

"But it's not good _enough_." The Man said at length, kneeling back down, and Reid looked up at Him in fear, eyeing the same bottle Reid had almost picked up before that was now in His hand. "You really fucked up this time." And then, in what was almost a single motion, He grabbed Reid's arm, splayed it onto the floor, and then brought the bottle down against his wrist with what felt like like every ounce of strength He had. A pain like Reid had never experienced before completely whited out everything else, and he screamed, instinctively kicking out and trying to get Him the _hell _away from him.

"You won't again, though, will you?" He stood and nudged Reid with his foot, and Reid shrieked again, rolling over as if trying to escape from and avoid what had already happened. "Will you, pet?"

"I..._can't_...I...I...It's..."

"You're lucky _this_ didn't break," The Man said, placing the bottle back on the table, and then loomed above the other, looking down on him in every meaning of the phrase. Reid got to his knees, choking on his tears, and held his hurt arm up and out towards Him like he thought He was going to do something about it. The Man gave him a _look_, like maybe Reid should have _realized_ he didn't deserve to be cared for, at least not right now, and then He turned and walked away. "M-Master!" he called after Him, but He just continued on, locked the door, glared back at the other, said, "I'll hit it a lot harder if there's a next time." and then disappeared into the hallway, and Reid could do absolutely nothing but sit there in utter, humiliating defeat.

Then, he bent over, pressed his forehead to the floor, held his injury tightly against his chest, and cried.

**_xxx_**

"Guys! Get in here!"

The team, practically in hysterics by now, hurriedly crowded around Garcia, her laptop, and the information they'd been waiting all night for—hopefully, at least. It'd been hours since they'd returned back to the hotel room, since they'd practically torn about the precinct in search of anything they could find on who they believed was responsible for their friend re-disappearing, and when they'd come up empty there, along with on the phone, they'd left it up to Garcia and her computer intelligence. It had never let them down before...and they hoped that it wouldn't begin to let them down now.

"There are no connections between Brown and Duboir," she said at length, and their shoulders slumped. "But he _does _have a brother."

"A brother?" Hotch crossed his arms and scowled. "And _he's_ connected somehow?"

"Well, yes and no."

"Gar_ci_a!"

"I know! Okay, remember how I went through all the men that she had contact with? Well, turns out one of her coworkers from before she quit, which by the way happened right after her miscarriage, was a man named Wyatt Anderson, who, coincidentally, seems to only randomly appear about nine years ago. I looked for him for a while, but I couldn't find anything. His records, like, don't exist, and for me to say that, _they don't exist. _But then, low and behold, it was a little easier to find Brown's step-brother,_ Bruce_, and well, here's their pictures side by side. Tell me it's not the same guy."

"He's dyed his hair...cut it...gained weight, but...that's him. No doubt," JJ said, and there was a moment of awkward, uncomfortable silence in which all of them realized that this was the man who had hurt Spencer, who had hurt the children...and who had taken Spencer back.

Garcia broke it with a shaky breath. "I've gotten everything I can on Bruce, which was difficult, and it isn't much, but here we go. Bruce's mother married into the Brown family when Brown was thirteen, and Bruce was nine. Five years later, their father was killed in what was deemed an accident; he fell down the stairs. The mother went into this crazy drunk depression spiral thing that she never got out of, and two years after _that _she died from liver failure caused by an overdose with alcohol. Then, Brown went to school for and joined the FBI, and Bruce went totally and completely underground, and there's no sign that they ever even talked to each other again. I looked up Brown's telephone records and occasionally he gets a call from or makes a call to a random number, and they all ended up being disposable cells or payphones from essentially all around Illinois."

Rossi sharply sighed. "That's how they would've kept contact, especially if Bruce didn't want to be seen..."

"Did the investigators think he killed the father?" Emily questioned, narrowing her eyes, and Garcia replied with, "That's the thing. It was never_ under_ investigation, or at least, if it was, there's no records. Both kids insisted they weren't home at the time it happened, and his blood alcohol level at time of death was _way _over what it should have been at point eleven. And, well...the man hadn't exactly had a good record, so I'm sure the police were excited to get him off their hands."

"And by that you mean...?"

"Total creep. Yeah. Went to jail three times for a total of three days on charges of child abuse, but none of it could ever be proven, and his wife bailed him out each time."

"Sexual abuse?"

"_Every _kind of abuse."

"So if the abuse became too much to handle," Hotch said, "and no one was doing anything about it, they might have felt there was no other choice."

"But then mom gets depressed, and it was all for shit." Morgan scoffed. "That'd be the reason he left and changed his name. He didn't want anything to do with it anymore."

"Mariana, if he beat her as much as Reid said, might have been a substitute for his mother."

"Who didn't do anything while they were suffering," Garcia added. "She must have reminded him of her when they met...which, by the way, was at her one and only job, at a banking business about an hour from their house. He's worked there for five years, but, of course, hasn't been in for nine days."

"Alright. Morgan, JJ, and I will go down and see if we can talk to his coworkers. The rest of you stay here in case anyone comes by with new information."

Garcia nodded, and then she slumped over on her desk as they left, burying her face in her hands.

Emily's phone rang, and it was heartbreak to realize that no, it _wasn't _about someone having found Reid. Not yet. Instead, Emily sat down on the bed behind her and said, "The autopsy reports are back on Mariana Duboir. She suffered a stroke; died in her sleep. Never felt a thing. And...well, they recovered the last of the eight bodies in the backyard. The last one couldn't have been dead for more than three weeks, they said."

"Three weeks..." Garcia said quietly. "Three weeks."

"We couldn't have saved them, or the others." Rossi said, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she nodded. "I know. I do."

"We were close, though." Emily murmured, sadly, after a moment, and Garcia swallowed her sorrow and again nodded her agreement. "Yeah. Close."

She could only hope that they wouldn't just be 'close' when they found Reid again...

_If_ they found Reid again.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I'm continuously surprised by the amount of support this story gets each chapter, and I love you all for it! :) Finally, some comfort for Reid has arrived.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, as always!**

**WARNINGS: ****Implied non-con, abuse, and talk of human trafficking.**

_**xxx**_

_"No one cares how much you know, until they know how much you care."_

― Theodore Roosevelt

**15.**

Reid came to, in agony, with a groan, forcing his eyes to open so he could reorient himself without having someone (painfully) do it for him. He didn't remember falling asleep—or passing out, which was more likely—nor was he aware of how long it had been; there was a dim morning light seeping in through the thin curtains, but there was still no one in the room, and it was silent aside from the low rumble of the air conditioner and his own rasping breaths. It could've been a day later for all he knew...although it seemed unlikely that The Man would have left him alone for that long. That wasn't what He did; He didn't give Spencer _breaks, _or time to _rest,_ not unless He wanted to as well.

Reid's gaze landed on the door, and he felt a hazy surge of desperation at the very idea of getting away again, but when he moved the slightest inch, beginning to place pressure on his right arm, a scream ripped itself from his throat, and he toppled back over, gasping, holding the injury he somehow just now remembered he had. It was impossible to tell the extent of the damage, though he could see, even in the near complete darkness, that it was swollen and darkly colored, and if it were to be as bad as the pain _told_ him it was...Oh god, why had he tried to get away? Why had he tried to fight back? He could be sleeping in a bed right now...instead he was lying broken, bloody, and bruised on a dirty rug that smelt almost worse than he could stand. Jeremy clearly had no sense of cleanliness...or maybe just hadn't been home in a while. Maybe he could please The Man by tidying up...?

He closed his eyes tightly. And there it was, back again so soon; the desire, the _need_ to assure he was doing absolutely everything in his power and even out of it to keep Him happy, and therefore keep himself alive and as uninjured as possible. Now, though, he couldn't even get up—he didn't want to even try. It hurt too much to do much of anything useful, for anyone's benefit. The Man would maybe tend to him later, if He felt like it...or if He wanted Reid to be recovered enough that He could, well...

Until then, he knew he would have to suck it up and deal with the pain; he'd done it for two years already, he could do it some more. Jennifer, Morgan, Emily...the entire team, the entirety of _everyone _knew he was missing, and would already be doing everything they could. If Reid had to wait a while for another chance, then so be it; he wouldn't be left here. He wouldn't have to stay. They wouldn't leave him...they wouldn't. Right? No, no, they _couldn't._

"You're awake."

Reid moaned, and it felt like someone had stabbed his parched throat. "I'm sorry, Master," he managed to mumble, trying to cough as quietly as he could, and then vaguely acknowledged the fact that he had never heard this voice before. It was male, but it was soft, hesitant…nervous? Reid realized this was definitely not his Master speaking, and he gently turned himself onto his other side in order to see a blurry figure standing a little ways from him. He wished they'd turn the damn lights on in here—or maybe that was because of his headache. _God_ did his head ache...He squinted after a second, and then let out a small, questioning sound.

The figure took a few steps back, like they didn't want to totally come into view, and then spoke up again. "Can you get up?"

_Could _he? Reid was rarely asked if he _could_ do anything; just ordered to make it happen no matter what. He tested his other arm and found it supported the weight applied, and, while they hurt terribly, his legs could as well. The Man had mostly hit, as always, them and his midsection; He had found two years ago that He enjoyed having His pet wince with every step, and of course, had never wanted to bring damage to his "pretty little face"...unless of course he deserved it. And sometimes he did.

Very, very slowly, Reid managed to get to his knees before he doubled over, gasping, and then suddenly this stranger was tucking their hands under his arms, helping him the rest of the way up. Reid cried out, but once he was on his feet he was released. He staggered a bit and then steadied himself, having to blink hard a few more times before he was finally able to see who was in front of him.

This man—who, now that he thought about it, appeared to be the same one he had seen get out of the car after Jeremy before—was shorter than Reid by at least a foot, but couldn't have been more than a few years younger, with short dark hair that was cut unevenly and a complexion similar to Morgan's. And his _eyes_…Reid always avoided eye-contact, but now he could not look away, for the sole reason that this man's eyes were those of someone who had been through far too much in far too little time, who had been hurt, who had been silenced.

In one brief instant, Reid knew that this man was in the same situation as he was.

The shorter man's gaze darted around, awkwardly, before he clasped his hands in front of him and gave Reid a little, unsure smile, probably because he didn't know what else he _could_ do. "Uh...my name's Daniel. What's your name?"

Reid tilted his head and stared, as if the words didn't compute. And really, they didn't—he had had no one else to talk to for so long…it felt strange knowing that this person before him, this equal, had been going through the exact same things. They had all dealt with human trafficking cases before at the BAU, and he had always been aware of it, but...it seemed to be...well, somehow different now. It felt as though this was the first time he had never seen anyone like this, like _him,_ in his entire life.

He never did end up answering, half because he was too afraid that The Man would come around the corner and find him speaking, and half because Daniel only gave him a few seconds until he held out his hand in a gesture for Reid to come with him. "You should take a shower...I mean...I'm supposed to make sure you do..."

Showering had been the last thing on Reid's mind until now, but ridding himself of the blood and pieces of shattered glass that were probably still on him, well…that was worth what he knew would happen in there. He nodded slightly and then followed, grunting in pain. He nearly ran into Daniel with how abruptly the other stopped in the hallway, clicking on the light in a side room and waving Reid inside.

Immediately after they stepped inside, without really even thinking about it, Reid slid his clothes off, and when Daniel turned around after starting the water he didn't seem at all startled. He instead gave the other another small smile, and then grabbed his clothes, went past him, quietly said, "I'll be back in five minutes." and then touched Reid's upper arm in what was probably meant to comfort him.

Reid gasped in surprise, and then started coughing, and then suddenly he was bent over the sink, unable to breathe, and Daniel jumped back like he was afraid he'd just killed the other. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" He stepped back a bit more, and Reid clumsily turned the sink on, though only ended up causing himself more pain when he absentmindedly tried to use the wrong hand to get some of the water. Then, Daniel put his own hand under the sink and brought it to Reid's cracked lips, murmuring, "Drink!" as if Reid might not have known what to do.

Without hesitating Reid did so, and Daniel gave him two more handfuls until he stopped choking, practically collapsing against the other in pain. Daniel slowly lowered him down to the rug, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned, and Reid finally nodded. He spent a moment catching his breath and then looked up, confused—anyone else here would have ignored something like that, let him get over it himself. In fact, several times, as he remembered, The Man _had,_ and, as a result, Reid was no stranger to being denied _everything_, even his most basic needs; The Man wanted control of every aspect of his life, and He had done everything in His power to succeed. Everything had become privileges that were only awarded to Reid, that he was never allowed to ask for, that only He could_ offer_...that He had never had any problem taking away from him if he didn't behave like he was supposed to, or how He wanted him to.

Reid wanted to thank the younger man, but Daniel had already stood up, offering his hand to help Reid to do the same. When Reid only stared at it like it was something he had never seen before, Daniel sighed, took Reid's clothing, and then exited with a quiet, "Five minutes," thrown over his shoulder again as he left Reid alone.

_Alone._

Reid watched the door for what was probably half of his time limit before he realized his Master was not coming in as He always had. He wondered how badly he'd fucked up to make The Man not even want to be with him in here...He had never allowed him to shower alone before. He was grateful, though, and so he stood up with a bit of effort, drank a bit more from the sink (because after what he'd done, who knew when he'd actually get any more?) and then took a deep breath and climbed under the stream of water. It was almost warm, but not quite; a soothing kind of cool, one he didn't mind, unlike the ice cold showers that were sometimes his punishments. It ran over his wounds, slowly, and while he cried his way through the first bit, it had now started to feel comforting. He stood still, not daring to move around, watching the water go from bright red to pink to clear, and then at last mustered up the courage to shut the thing off, plunging him into silence he knew would soon be broken by someone barging him and tossing him around again. He stood in the tub, shivering, for what seemed like forever until Daniel came back in and handed him a towel, a t-shirt, and sweatpants. They were too large for Reid but surprisingly comfortable (just as startling as everything else; it wasn't as if The Man ever cared how he _felt_), and there was a long string around the waist, which he tied tightly with his unhurt hand and teeth...too tightly. Maybe it would be harder for Him to undress him totally next time. Maybe it would buy him a few minutes...as if it really mattered.

Daniel gave him a solemn nod and then led him back out into the living room, where Brown was sitting in a recliner chair faced towards the window, staring out of the partially opened blinds like the yard was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, and Jeremy was sitting on the couch, smiling at them in an odd sort of way. He made a movement with his hand for one of them to come over, and when Daniel took a step forward, Jeremy said, "No. Him."

Daniel seemed almost offended, though Reid couldn't think of why that would be. He glanced around for The Man and then obediently made his way over to where he was apparently supposed to be. Maybe if he just...kept his head down...

"These fit nice, I'm glad. " Jeremy said, pinching Reid's thigh, and the younger man shrunk away, bringing his knees up to his chest, his wrist tucked between them.

"Oh c'mon, boy," Jeremy said, licking his lips suggestively. "Wyatt's goin' through _way_ too much trouble to keep you for you not to be better than a regular."

Reid just looked scared and confused, and Jeremy laughed loudly. "You know damn well what I'm talkin' about. I ain't new to this. And I know you're not stupid, even after this morning. Wyatt said you're a real smart one. FBI agent? Huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah..." Jeremy put a hand on Reid's side, and Brown, who was now watching, clenched his teeth. "Not anymore. They're never gonna find you again, not now."

Reid let out a sob, shaking his head, and then Jeremy brushed the hair out of the younger's eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart. A few more years and you won't wanna leave. That's how my Danny-boy here was before, right, baby?" He scratched the scruff on his chin as he looked over at Daniel, who nodded and replied, "Yes, sir."

Reid blinked. Sweetheart? _Baby?_

"Used to have another, too," Jeremy cleared his throat and moved his hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Sold him when I got short on money. Planning on getting another, though, once I get to Europe. Gettin' real tired of the States." He smiled. "You think you'd like it in Europe?" He chuckled when Reid blanched, shaking his head and then trying to turn away as the man started touching him again, trembling. "Anyway, he went out for a bit. He told me to...entertain myself, if I wanted. And I mean, after before, you owe me for not killing you on the spot. Don't you think so?"

"No..." Reid whimpered, "No, sir, please."

Jeremy scowled and slapped Reid's back, sending fresh, fiery pain through his body. "And he told me you were so well trained—that last night you just weren't thinkin' straight. Do you talk back to him that way? Huh?"

"No, sir." Reid gasped, his eyelids fluttering, and Brown finally spoke up with, "He isn't in good condition right now."

"You shut up, too," Jeremy rolled his eyes, and then watched as Reid moaned and held his arm closer when Jeremy reached for it, probably to pull him up. The older man paused a moment and then smiled almost sweetly. Reid knew that look, though; manipulative, deceiving...a look The Man had had countless times before. "I'll make a sling for your arm if you come with me. How does that sound, hm? Make it feel better?"

Reid wanted to refuse, but it hurt so awfully, so unbearably, and he knew that denying would only bring more pain...so he nodded weakly and stood, following the man past Brown and Daniel and into one of the rooms the ex-detective didn't see, and while Daniel left the room as well, Brown sharply exhaled and leaned back, shaking his head. He couldn't turn back. Not now. It was far too late for that. He couldn't turn back, and he didn't want to. He didn't want to because Wyatt didn't want to, and that's what mattered...right?

"Ah, shit." Brown muttered, covering his face with his hands. "What am I doing...?"

He sat there for a very long while, deep in thought, and then jumped when a door slammed shut from down the hallway, and Jeremy walked casually back over to the couch and sat.

"...Where's the kid?"

"Oh. I told him I'd let him sleep for a while on my bed if he was good, so..." Jeremy smirked, and then turned the television on again, settling down with a satisfied sigh. Brown grimaced, and the other man caught it. "What, you tellin' me you hadn't been thinking about it, too?"

Brown didn't know how to respond to that. "He's...hurt."

"He ran. He was _seen. _I'd've done a lot worse, to tell you the truth. We're gonna have to get out of here faster than we wanted to. Like, _today._" He made a disapproving sound and shook his head. "And anyway. Didn't get rid of all the options." He laughed like he thought that was funny, then tilted his head at the other man. "Wyatt told me he didn't know about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't know if you were trustworthy enough. I mean, I can't blame him. You've been more skittish than the boy. But I gotta say...he's been a good friend of mine for over two years now, and we been planning on gettin' the hell outta here for half of that. You get either of us caught, you make a move towards the phone, you so much as _mention_ the cops, I will fuckin' kill you. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it."

Jeremy nodded and then seemed to relax even more than he had before, kicking back the recliner and crossing his arms.

A sudden, loud sob that was so definitely Reid's came from whatever room he was in, and Jeremy turned up the television's volume, pretending he hadn't heard.

Brown stared back down at the floor, absolutely silent.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hello! Hope you've all had a good week, and hope you enjoy this next chapter! **

**As always, reviews are super appreciated. You guys never fail to make me smile! :D**

_**xxx**_

_"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."_

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

**16.**

"FBI. We need everything you have on one of your workers—Wyatt Anderson?"

The entire office space of the top floor of the bank seemed to go silent, to the point where they could hear a clock ticking obnoxiously loud from halfway across the place, a maddening reminder of the time they were running out of, that every second they spent trying to_ find_ Reid was a second closer to him either disappearing completely, or being killed. Who knew if he was even still alive now?

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _

"Is he in trouble?" the man they had been told to speak with asked, sounding worried, and it snapped JJ out of her thoughts. "He's suspected for, ah, well, a _lot_, including assault and kidnapping."

"Hah!" someone from one of the cubicles huffed out, and their attention went to this man as he stood up. "Wyatt? Seriously? I mean, he's got a temper sometimes, but that? No way. No friggin' way."

"You knew him well?" Morgan asked, stepping up to him, casual.

"Pretty much all of us do. He's a great guy!"

Fuming, JJ crossed her arms. "Really? Because that_ great guy_ held nineteen hostages over two years, eighteen of which were children."

A few of the others were standing up now, slowly walking over to them.

"What?"

"Are you serious?"

"That's totally impossible."

"What," Morgan demanded, shaking his head in disgust, "he was that convincing?"

"We all knew him. He wasn't like that!"

"We're wasting time." Hotch interrupted impatiently. "He's taken one of our agents."

"Well, we haven't seen him in a week, almost." the one who had laughed before said, and then he frowned. "Come to think of it, haven't seen Jeremy either. He never misses work."

"Sorry, who?" JJ asked, and the other shrugged. "Just another guy who works here. He handles the customer service telephone lines. Started here a few years ago...two or three, I think. He never really says much."

"Did you ever see him speaking with Anderson?" Hotch asked, and the man thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think they were old college buddies or something. Wyatt mentioned something about that at a football game a while back."

"A football game?" JJ repeated, enunciating nearly every letter, a feigned smile on her face. Were these people serious? They'd gone to a football game while—?

Hotch cleared his throat to return the attention to himself. "Did Anderson ever, even once, mention a woman in his life?"

"Sure, all the time. Bragged about how great the—" He very, very awkwardly averted his eyes to the ceiling and stammered for a moment. "How great she was. Never did meet her, though."

"I'll get the address of our friend Jeremy," Morgan said, and while he went off Hotch held up a finger. "One last thing. Kids—did he say he had any?"

"Yeah…he had a few. His wife was real into helping those in need and whatever...I think she adopted a couple. Wait, you—"

"Thank you for your time!" JJ interrupted, and then, once Morgan had returned, holding up his phone and mouthing 'she's got it', the three of them left with a call over their shoulder of, "Don't leave town."

"Sure, sure. Okay. I hope you find who you're looking for."

"Me too," JJ shot back, and Morgan put a hand on her shoulder as they left without another word.

_**xxx**_

While the makeshift sling Jeremy had made alleviated the pressure needed to keep it up when he was standing, it did nothing to calm the pain Reid was in as he lay motionless, scarcely breathing, on Jeremy's bed. He'd been lied to, _again_...why had he ever thought differently? Why had he believed, even for a second, that Jeremy would make _anything _feel better after the hatred he had shown towards him before? No. He'd shoved him to his knees and used him and then, probably just to shut Reid up, had grabbed a scarf, wrapped it around the younger's hand, and then tied it behind his neck and pushed him down on the bed before leaving.

At least Jeremy had kept his word about that, about Reid being able to sleep afterwards, although he wasn't really doing much sleeping. He was awfully cold, shivering, but he could not make himself move and grab the blanket at the end of the bed. It hurt too much, he was too tired, and frankly he didn't think he even cared enough to try, and so he instead quietly cried until he was out of tears and could only numbly stare at the ceiling. There was a window above the bed—he could see the shadows move from cars driving by outside every few minutes. But he could do nothing, and it was more than a little upsetting to realize he was about as helpless as he could possibly be. In fact, that little piece of information might have been hurting him more than anything else. If he hadn't been so ridiculous, so naïve, so disgustingly _hopeful,_ he would be able to breathe without agony right now, he would have both hands ready to fight again when he got another chance...but he didn't. And it was pointless to focus on it, but he found himself unable to do anything else.

For a while, he was alone, and had maybe started to doze off once or twice before snapping back awake when something decided to hurt. Then, Daniel came in to drop something Reid didn't care enough to look at off in one of the drawers by the bed, and then crossed his arms uncomfortably and looked at the other. "Are you okay?"

Reid sniffed, letting that be answer enough, and Daniel sighed, sitting at the end of the bed. "You don't really talk, I guess. That's okay...that's what your keeper wants, right?"

Reid nodded, closing his eyes, and then he felt Daniel shift until he was lying horizontal at Reid's feet. "Sorry. Your Master must like you, though, if he's kept you this long, you know? There's been three who came here and then left after a while, but, mine likes me too..."

He trailed off when Reid let out a loud sob, and then he sat up and put his hands out. "I'm sorry! Please don't cry. You're gonna get me in trouble!" He put his hand on Reid's ankle then cringed when that only made the other yelp and curl into himself and then cry harder from the pain the movement brought.

Daniel looked around, hesitated, and then stood, going into the bathroom and grabbing a tube of antibiotic along with two painkillers from the bottle in the cabinet—just two, they wouldn't be missed. He took the cup Jeremy used to hold his razor, washed it out with soap, and then filled it halfway and took it back to Reid, holding out the pills in his other hand. "Take these?"

Reid blearily looked up, frowning at them and shaking his head, but after Daniel assured him that he _wasn't_ trying to drug him, he agreed. Setting down the cup on the dresser, Daniel then lifted the antibiotic, uncapping it, and Reid roughly panted out, "No—" because for whatever reason he thought what Daniel had was alcohol and that would fucking _kill_ him.

"Ssh, ssh, ssh, it's okay, this is gonna help!" He sat down beside the other and held the tube before Reid's eyes. "See?"

Gasping, Reid's eyes unfocused and then closed, and Daniel wasn't sure if he had passed out or not, and so he waited a moment until the other relaxed a bit before he gently pushed Reid onto his right side and inched up Reid's shirt to see his back. Reid mumbled in protest, trying to move away, but Daniel got it up as far as it could go anyway, his eyes widening in shock. "Christ." he said, and Reid couldn't tell whether he was talking about his current wounds or all the scars from past ones. Both, probably. Then, Daniel let out a breath, bit his lip—and gently stroked Reid's hair, just once. "Ssh," he murmured before Reid could react, "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I promise."

Reid still cringed away and breathed harder, because that was what they_ all_ said, and so Daniel placed both his hands back into his lap. "Okay. I won't."

Staring at the other, bewildered, Reid didn't know how to respond to that. Hesitantly, he lifted his shoulder in a sort of gesture to continue; if Daniel wanted to care for him, he realized it was foolish for him to protest. But, in retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have allowed it, because a few seconds later Daniel quickly—albeit gently—striped a line of the stuff down his worst gash, and for a brief moment the pain in his wrist was _nothing. _Reid choked and went rigid, shaking, feeling like he was going to be sick, and Daniel shushed him again. "I know. I'm sorry. I'll just do the worst ones, okay? It'll feel better after."

Somehow, that wasn't as comforting as Daniel probably planned it to be.

When Daniel finished treating Reid, the tube of antibiotic was half empty, something he knew he'd get smacked for later…although to be truthful, it would be worth it. The last thing this other man needed was to get an infection...he already looked awful.

"Okay, I'm done." he said at length, and when Reid didn't react, Daniel nudged his shoulder, and then decided that if he was asleep, that was for the best, and he wasn't going to wake him up. "Christ," he repeated, because _Christ. _Jeremy had used to whip him when he was bad, too, but he had stopped after a while, once he'd been good more often than not. This man beside him, however, was even more broken than he was—and far more scarred. Daniel had only been beaten _severely_ a few times over the years, but...this one...he was _terrified._ And that wasn't to say sometimes Daniel wasn't either, but, all things considered, Jeremy had treated him relatively well. This one's Master seemed to have gone miles beyond what was needed to make his boy behave, and Daniel immediately felt guilty for only caring about _himself _getting in trouble before. No wonder the other had been crying! Jeremy could hurt him when mad, but this one could be _killed._

After a bit, in which Daniel was surprised no one came into the room or called for either of them, Reid finally exhaled sharply and blinked, staring at the other, his eyes narrowed because he had no idea why this other man had stayed with him, and it made him afraid. No one did anything for him without wanting something in return.

"Does your back feel better?"

Reid slowly nodded, and then, when Daniel gestured at his wrist, he vigorously shook his head, holding it closer to him at the very reminder.

"Will your Master fix it for you? Wrap it, I mean...with...more than a scarf?"

Reid thought for a moment. The Man always tended to him, once he was completely obedient again, but this time? Reid was uncertain. The Man could do absolutely anything at this point—when He had left Reid before, the younger had been bowing to every whim He had and more. Reid hadn't tried to escape since around month six, and now...now he'd really, really fucked up. He finally answered Daniel with a shrug, because he couldn't really do anything else, and the other sighed.

"Sorry. I'll try to find something for you if not..."

_Thank you,_ Reid mouthed weakly, hoping he was understood, and Daniel smiled. "Yeah, of course." He was silent for a moment, and then quietly he asked, "Is it okay if I lie down?"

Though suspicious, Reid moved a few inches over to give him enough space to do so, and nodded. Daniel took up only half of it, one leg hanging off the frame, clearly trying to make sure Reid didn't think he would do anything. It was...refreshing, to say the least, for Reid's own desires (or lack thereof) to be cared about. He thought that maybe he already liked this man.

"You remember before, right?" Daniel suddenly said, looking over at him. "Before all this?"

Reid teared up again, and Daniel apologized immediately. "I shouldn't have...I should'nt've said that." He paused, visibly searching through his head for another topic. "So, FBI agent, huh? That's great! I was just in college." He saw Spencer try to say something, although nothing came out.

"Hold on a sec." Daniel got up, rummaged through the desk in the corner, and then came back with a pen and a crumpled piece of yellow paper. "Can you write?" he asked, laying back down, this time on his stomach, and pushing the objects towards the other.

Reid felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a half-second, tiny smile, and he nodded. He took the pen, trying to figure out how the hell to fit it in his left hand, hardly able to even see the paper in the position he was in and not intending to move an inch despite it, and then shakily managed to write, _college for what?_ His handwriting ended up being barely legible, but Daniel, after a moment of squinting down at it, grinned a little and said, "I really had no idea, you know? Funny thing is, if I went back, I still don't think I would. If..." He swallowed hard, and Reid could see he wanted to stop talking, but he didn't. "Is being a fed all I heard it was when I was a kid?"

_It's better. My team is the best._

Daniel chuckled, and then stared off into the distance. "Do you think your team could find us?"

_They will._

"Are you sure?"

_Yes._

Daniel nodded, looking like he was really trying to believe it. Reid looked away for a moment, and then wrote down a single word.

"...Spencer? That's your name?" Daniel smiled again. "I like that. It's nice."

_Nice, _Reid repeated to himself, and then wrote again. _You're nice._

"Yeah..." he said, hesitantly. "Thanks. We all have to kind of look out for each other, don't we?"

With a terribly sad expression, Reid slowly replied with, _My team will come._

Daniel looked back up to the ceiling and bit his lip. "I want to go home," he said, his voice breaking. "But I don't want to hope anymore. It just...I can't."

Reid couldn't find an answer to that, because with every labored, painful breath he took, he further doubted if _he_ wanted to hope anymore, either.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hi guys! Hope you enjoy! :)**

**PSST, anon who was talking about how much they liked Reid/Daniel moments: THANK YOU! And there will be more!**

**Reviews are wonderful and appreciated, as always!**

_**xxx**_

_"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."_

― Lucius Annaeus Seneca

**17.**

"_Pet!_"

Reid flinched and gave a quiet moan, having been enjoying the quiet he hardly ever received, and Daniel's hand automatically placed itself upon the other's, something he didn't seem to even realize he'd done. Spencer looked up at him, absolutely fascinated, and then, knowing it would be so much worse if a hasty reply wasn't given, called out, "Yes, sir!"

Footsteps stormed down the hall, and Daniel broke their gazes and scrambled to his feet and away from the bed just as the door opened. The Man entered, an ever-impatient expression on His face, and, without being ordered to do so, Reid was on his feet, his injured hand behind his back, his head low. "Yes, sir?"

"I wasn't expecting the supervision I asked for to be _you,_" He said, speaking to Daniel.

"My keeper said—"

"Shut up," He spat, and Daniel jumped. "Sorry, sir."

"Go back to him now. Leave us alone."

With a single, sympathetic glance at Reid, he murmured a, "Yes, sir," and then shut the door on his way out.

The Man faced His pet again, and the younger man sniffled. "I'm sorry, Master. I am. I'm so, so sorry."

"I know. Sit down."

Reid obeyed immediately, and He sat beside him, setting a brown plastic bag on the floor. Then, He grasped Reid's hair tightly in His fingers, pulling just enough that Reid winced. "You were confused...you were out there for almost five days. You just needed a little reminder, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember now, pet?" He asked, using His other hand to lightly touch the wrist He'd hurt, and Reid went stiff as even_ that_ made him feel sick from pain. "Y-y-yes sir. Yes sir!"

"Good boy." He released the other, reached into the bag beside Him and said, "I got something for you." Then, He took out a strip of what looked like leather that Reid instinctively flinched away from, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry!" he whimpered, awaiting the pain, but instead, he felt it wrap around his neck, _loosely, _and click closed in the back. Reid blinked a few times, relaxing his aching muscles as he realized The Man had stood and taken a step back. He reached up to feel the thing, to feel the cold, flat, circular metal piece attached. It took him a moment to understand, and he let out a shaky breath.

The Man had put a collar on him.

"There we go," He said, haughtily, and Reid looked up to find Him smiling. "Now you can remember every time you look at yourself who you belong to. I should've done it a while ago, really...Never really needed to, I suppose. You knew. I made sure you knew. Anyway," He gestured for Reid to come forward, "come here. I got something for your wrist, too."

Slowly, almost in a daze, Reid followed Him to the bathroom, pausing to look into the mirror, holding the tag out straight so he could read the single word engraved.

_Pet._

"Don't ever let me catch you without it, understand? I'll break more than your wrist."

"Yes, Master." Reid said quietly, and ended up staring at it the entire time it took for Him to secure his injury.

"What do you say now, Pet?" He asked when He was finished, and Reid blankly looked down at his wrist, bringing it up closer to inspect it and the plastic, store-bought splint it now had around it. It still hurt terribly, but he knew this was as good as it was going to get; he had to be thankful He had tended to it at all. He would just have to be careful...and maybe convince Daniel to give him another pill...or two...or twenty.

"Thank you, Master." Reid said quietly, agreeably, and then he allowed The Man to push him back against the sink and kiss him, and he kissed back, because for now, he didn't have a person to protect anymore. He was just a pet, a toy, a nothing, and until he found a way out—_if_ he found a way out—that was something he had to accept. It'd been two years...he figured he should have been used to it by now.

"I love you, Master," Reid mumbled, and The Man gave a cruel smirk, petting his hair.

"I know."

**_xxx_**

**THEN**  
**(1 Year 7 Months)**

_The sound of the front door opening startled Spencer out of his daydreaming, and he whirled around to assure the living room was in the perfect condition it had been just seconds before. He had cleaned the entire house from top to bottom over the last day, and he was incredibly pleased with himself, only hoping He would be pleased as well._

_The Man set His things down, loosened His collar and tie, and then looked to where Reid stood, head lowered, his hands clasped in front of him, the embodiment of servitude. It wasn't even something he thought about anymore; if it lessened his suffering, he was more than willing and happy to do it._

_"Did you do everything I asked today, pet?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_The Man gave a nod and then glanced around again. "Where's Marian?"_

_"In the yard, sir...in the garden._

_The Man rolled His eyes. "In the gar...I told her to stop that useless shit." He lifted His hand to His forehead, and Reid flinched once, and then again when it reached out towards him, awaiting a blow both times. But instead His hand merely landed gently on his head and began petting his hair. "Good boy."_

_And Reid smiled and leaned into the touch, nuzzling The Man's fingers until He pulled away. "It does look good in here," He said, and Reid hoped that what he heard in The Man's voice was pride. "You may go to the bathroom, and make sure you clean yourself up. You may join us tonight. You've been a good boy."_

_"Thank you, Master." Reid said, unable to keep his smile away. It must have been Sunday, the day he was allowed to eat more than the meager portions he usually got, the ones that just barely kept him alive. It didn't matter that he had to kneel on the hard tile the whole time, that his eyes were never supposed to leave the floor__—that was simply routine.__ He was being_ fed,_ and _that's _what mattered. It was food, and energ__y, and well, it was life—his life, and whether or not it was good meant nothing anymore. He didn't deserve good. He deserved this...he deserved whatever his Master said he deserved._

_Of course, it hadn't been The Man's idea in the first place—it had been Marian's. She had somehow convinced Him that, on this one day out of the week, all of their "family" should be able to eat together. The Man had made it very clear that He did not see Reid as a person, only as an object He owned, but had agreed on the condition that He decided when Reid was well-behaved enough to join them, and that he wasn't to sit at the table because "pets don't sit in chairs." Reid didn't care. He truly, truly didn't. He was horribly hungry all of the time, practically starving (Reid had been convinced before that it was to assure he didn't have the strength to escape, but it had never gotten better), and any chance he had to quell that need he would take, under any circumstances at all. If his Master had told him to eat it with his feet he would have figured out some way to make it work._

_Reid used the bathroom, made sure his face and hands were clean, and then reemerged as The Man was virtually dragging Marian back inside. _

_"No, no," she was saying, "the boy helped me with finishing dinner. It's all ready. I was just...never mind."_

_"Good. Pet?"_

_"Yes, sir?"_

_"Get the kids."_

_"Yes, sir." Reid didn't approve of when 'kids' was said as if the children were their own. Although he no longer made it clear, he was still quite aware of how wrong this all was. But for the children to be 'well-behave'__—for them to _survive_—they had__ to act like The Man and Marian really were their guardians, and so Reid did as well._

_When the children were all seated, Reid on his knees beside The Man's feet, and they had said their grace (funny, Reid had always thought; they sometimes acted as if they weren't sinners), they were allowed to eat. Marian always struck up some conversation, about how the kids' days were, or how His day was, as if the children ever left the basement unless it was into the backyard under supervision, and as if He ever had a day He wanted to speak about._

_"Good," the children would nod._

_"Fine," The Man would say. And He would watch Reid out of the corner of His eyes to make sure he was doing everything He wanted and nothing He didn't—as per usual. This was either the time where He yelled at him loud enough the entire group flinched, or that He reached over and patted Reid's head...and luckily now He was doing the second. But He would want Reid to do things in return for this favor, this privilege...He always did. And sometimes doing those things made Reid throw back up everything he'd finally been able to have, leaving him in pain and uncomfortable and, once again, hungry. He should have been used to it by now, but he wasn't, and he didn't believe he ever really would be. The Man never just used him and then left him alone__—He__ wanted him in pain, because that alone pleasured Him more than most sexual acts did, and He achieved that in any way He could find, whether it was with His belt around his neck or cracking against his skin, or something else. Reid put absolutely nothing past Him._

_The Man _did_ have good days, though...sometimes. Reid knew the general direction the night would go by his Master's mood when He came home. If He was happy, and that did happen, albeit rarely, He would only hurt Reid a little, especially if he'd been good. But if he'd been bad...if The Man's _day_ had been bad..._

_The Man had good days, anyway. He did. And Reid tried more than anything to focus on that. That was all he could do, anyways, wasn't it?_

**NOW**

An open hand smacked Reid out of a sleep he didn't remember falling into, and he jerked up from where he lay on the bed, tears stinging his eyes as he recalled where he was, wincing in pain.

"Get up!" The Man demanded, grabbing his clothes up off the floor and throwing them at him. "Get dressed!"

Reid scrambled to do so and afterwards stood still as He took several things from the room, stuffed them into a bag, and then took Reid by his collar. Reid stared longingly over to his left, letting out a tiny, cut-off groan when Wyatt began to lead him out the door, and then Wyatt frowned down at him and followed his gaze to the bathroom. "Oh. It _has_ been a while, hasn't it?" He clicked his tongue in displeasure, jerking on the collar in annoyance. "And you know, if you hadn't caused so much trouble, if your _friends_ weren't causing so much trouble, we might have had the minute to spare. But we don't. Now _walk._"

"I'm sorry, Master..."

"Yeah,_ that_ helps! Move your ass!" He spat, and then shoved him until he obeyed, walking out into the living room. "You got _all _the money, right?" He called over to Jeremy, who was by the door along with Daniel, Brown, and another two bags.

"Yeah. Let's go." Jeremy hissed, and then led them all out into the garage, putting Reid and Daniel into the back seat of Jeremy's van, with Brown in the middle, Jeremy driving, and Wyatt beside him.

"Master?" Daniel questioned softly once they had backed up and were on the road, and the fact that he was brazen enough to speak out of turn startled Reid. Jeremy didn't shout, either—he simply said, "Don't speak anymore," and Daniel agreed. There was no violence involved, no screams, no threats—just a simple _don't._ And that was especially surprising considering how Jeremy had acted earlier that morning, how eager he had seemed to shoot Reid, how careless he had been when he'd...

Spencer narrowed his eyes. Why hadn't _he_ deserved someone like that? Someone who treated him nicely? Why did Daniel? Reid had done everything and anything in his power and even _out _of it to please The Man, and He had still shown only violence, even after his complete and utter submission. Not a day had gone by without Reid gaining some sort of bruise or scrape, no matter how good it had gone. Why the hell hadn't _he _gotten someone who was nicer? Why the hell did _he_ deserve to have such an awful owner?

He hadn't realized he was scowling at Daniel until the other frowned back and mouthed,_ What?_

_Fuck you_. Reid thought venomously, turning away to look out the window. And then he realized jealously—of all things!—was _not_ something he should have been feeling; not about this. Daniel was no better off—he still wasn't free.

But...Daniel didn't have a collar. Daniel's back probably wasn't torn to shreds. Daniel's wrist wasn't broken. Daniel was treated better than Reid, and he hadn't known that was possible until now. Jealously was _all _he felt, and he couldn't help it.

"You sure this guy of yours is legit?" Wyatt quietly asked after a bit, and Jeremy nodded. "Yeah. His place is real nice. Been there a few times."

"Where are we going?" Brown asked, and Jeremy absentmindedly replied, "Memphis."

"Memphis?" the older brother choked. "W-what? _Tennessee?_"

Wyatt scoffed. "Why, you got somewhere to be?

"No..."

"Then, for the love of God, shut the hell up."

Brown closed his mouth and sat back, swallowing hard, and Jeremy chuckled. "He listens better than the other one."

Wyatt nodded and sighed. "He does. Isn't that right, brother o' mine?"

Either ashamed, embarrassed, or both, Brown turned away, and Wyatt laughed. "Yeah. He always was a good boy."

Brown flinched suddenly and loudly sucked in a breath through his teeth like he'd been struck. "_Don't._"

"Oh, get over it already." Wyatt shook his head, and Brown shuddered so violently that even Reid noticed, frowning at him, and Brown happened to catch it, raising his fist and swinging in Reid's direction. "Keep your fucking eyes down, whore!"

Reid exclaimed in surprise and shrank back, and Wyatt raised an eyebrow at his brother, a tiny smile on his lips, like maybe that had amused him, or made him proud, even, and Brown's eyes went back out the window, biting his lip and blinking just a little too fast.

Watching as The Man turned back around and Brown reached up to scratch his nose, Reid thought he might have seen the ex-detective quickly wipe at his cheek as he put his hand back down into his lap, the other clenched into a fist at his knee.

Reid found he didn't really care whether he'd seen right or not, however, and went back to watching other cars pass_—_all occupants of which being completely unaware anything was wrong, let alone anything just a few meters from them_—_through the darkly tinted window.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I still can't believe how much love this fic has gotten, and I'll never be able to thank you all enough! H****ope you all are good, and hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

**Dear_ Justareview_ (anonymous person): I REALLY LIKE YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU'VE SAID. :D**

**Reviews, as always, are incredibly loved and appreciated. :)**

_**xxx**_

_"Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words."_

― Rūmī

**18.**

**30 Minutes Later**

With a long, anxious sigh, Aaron Hotchner turned away from the SWAT team slowly moving to surround the house they were before to face the rest of his team, minus Garcia, who was the one who had highlighted the warning label on the file she sent over. Jeremy Taylor, as she had discovered, was said to be highly dangerous and possibly armed, and was not only on the FBI's wanted list for trafficking both drugs and humans, but had previously served a total of three years in prison for it. _Three. _Garcia had just about punched a hole through her screen at that, but, after a bit of reassurance that it would not happen again from Morgan, that this man would never, _ever_ get out after this, she'd continued by saying that, when he got out, Jeremy had seemed to clean up his act completely, and had absolutely no trouble with his parole officer for as long as he had him, and had 'become a model citizen', a comment that had everyone listening rolling their eyes so hard it was a bit painful.

The radio Hotch was holding in his hand hissed with static before a voice confirmed the others were in place, and Hotch replied back into it, "Go, go!" while he, his team, and five others approached the front door, guns raised.

"Jeremy Taylor! FBI! We have a warrant for your arrest! Come out with your hands up!"

When there was no response, Hotch tried again, and then nodded at Morgan, who thrust his foot into the door with all his strength and knocked it open. "FBI! We're comin' in!" he shouted, and then quickly moved inside, being sure to keep his eyes out for the others as well as he ducked into the hall.

"Clear!"

"Clear."

"All clear here!"

Morgan shook his head as the officers continued calling out, becoming a little more dejected each time. There _had _to be someone here. There was no way in hell they could have missed them...right?

"Reid!" he finally called out, clearing the rest of the bedrooms, and then he jumped when he heard what sounded like JJ's surprised exclamation, and he rushed back into the living room. "JJ?"

"In here. Oh, Morgan..."

Morgan froze, feeling as if he was going to be sick. The heartbreak in her voice...it was unmistakable. There was only one thing he could think of that laid in the other room, and he couldn't will his feet to move. "Is...?"

JJ came back into view, holding what thankfully _wasn't _Reid, but the clothes he had been wearing...which were covered in blood, along with pieces of broken glass.

"He was here," he said when he saw the tears on her face, placing a hand on her arm. "It's okay. He was here." He snapped on his own glove and checked over the clothing. "Look, look, there isn't that much blood. He's alive. Okay? He's alive. We're gonna find him."

"Yeah." She nodded, inhaling sharply through her nose and composing herself. "They couldn't have gotten far. I'm gonna get perimeters set up at the exits to the neighborhood...have someone go from door to door, see if anyone saw anything."

"Yeah. You do that. I'll look around here."

JJ nodded again, reaching up to adjust the tie holding back her hair, and then she placed a hand on her holster and used the other to dial Garcia on her phone, stepping outside and taking another deep breath.

"Please give me good news, my love."

"I wish I could," she replied. "He's not here." She paused. "None of them are. They must've known we were coming."

"How?"

"I don't know...Was there any activity on Taylor's part? His accounts? Anything?"

"No...I don't see anything. Give me a minute...oh, jeez."

"What?"

"I told you I set up alerts in case he used any of his accounts, right? Well, I did. I also sent all the banks a picture of all three of them in case they were crazy enough to go out in public."

"...And?"

"_Well,_ Jeremy was..."

"And? Okay? Which bank, Garcia?"

"...The one he and Wyatt worked at. I don't know how I didn't see it before...I was so worried, I just..."

"It's alright. What is it?"

"Someone sent me the feed from a security camera...sending it to your phone right now."

JJ looked down at the phone as the clip downloaded and then pressed play, watching the grainy, black and white footage of the same office room they had been to, talking to two of the people they had questioned.

"Oh, _great,_" she grumbled, putting the phone back to her ear, "we were _just there! _Those bastards lied to our faces!"

"One of them, a Mr. Lawrence Smith, had an account that he emptied just a few minutes after that. It was under a fake name, transferred to one with another alias, which is why it took me a while—until right now, really—to find it. It has eight hundred _thousand _dollars in it."

JJ choked. "Can you shut it down?"

"I can do you one better. I can track the card. If he uses it for anything, the address'll send to me."

"Perfect. You're perfect. We'll go back and see what we can get from them. No way they know as little as they told us they did."

"No way," Garcia repeated, although sounded doubtful.

"Garcia?"

"Mm?"

"He's gonna be okay."

"Of course he is. He _always _is."

"I'll let you know what we find."

"Okay," Garcia said, but when she hung up, she buried her face in her hands and tried not to cry...and yet ended up doing it anyway.

**_xxx_**

Despite prior planning to drive all the way through to Memphis, Jeremy decided after a few hours (and nearly being pulled over—and ruined—by a cop) that they could benefit from stopping until it was darker, driving to the edge of the town at the next exit and finding a seedy motel with only three cars in the lot and a liquor store on the same block, something that clearly pleased him and Wyatt. He made the trip to the front office, returning to the car with a key and a smile after a few moments, and Wyatt sighed, opening the door and gesturing for Daniel to get out. Then, Wyatt took Reid's collar and forcibly tugged him out as well, and he staggered out, doubled over. He let out a choked cry, and Wyatt grabbed his injured wrist. "Shut it," he growled, and Reid whimpered but obeyed. It wasn't like he had another choice—he knew no one here, of all places, would care even if they did see him. And no one had _before,_ either, so...really, why should he even think about trying?

Once all of them were in the room, Jeremy locked the door, shut the curtains, and turned on the lights. "Nice and cozy."

"Yeah..." Brown drawled, sitting down, and Reid bent over again, grabbing onto the bed sheets with one hand, waiting for his Master to say something or even just _notice _him, and when The Man didn't, he let out another whimper, much louder than he meant to, and He looked over, annoyed, like He had no idea what was wrong. "What're you whining about now?"

Reid couldn't answer, because he wasn't _allowed _to _ask_ for things, but then again, if he didn't get permission, _right now, _he was going to get in far more trouble for something _else. _

"...Wyatt," Brown said quietly, awkwardly, as if the problem wasn't blatantly obvious, "I think—"

"Fuck off!" Wyatt snapped, and then he waved at Reid in a dismissive gesture. "That's right. Go ahead, pet. And take a shower, too. And for God's sake, shave that disgusting hair off your face."

Reid practically tripped in his haste to do so, and after a moment of rummaging through his suitcase, Jeremy nodded at Daniel and handed him a razor and cream. "You too. Go."

"Yes, sir." Daniel responded, following the other man, being sure he left the door open a few inches, as was Jeremy's rule when he showered alone.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asked, and Reid gasped, nearly pissing on the floor as he tried to angle himself away from the other, as if he even had a reason to hide anything anymore, as if he was so pure, so untouched.

"Sorry..." the other said, seeming more uncomfortable by the fact that _Reid_ was uncomfortable than anything else. He moved past him, turned the water on, and then gestured. "You can go first."

Reid sighed in contentment after he'd finished, standing there in a daze for a moment, and then looked up, nodding. He gently took off his splint before undressing, highly uneasy as he slowly stepped into the tub, covering himself until he was safely behind the curtain. He then picked up the shampoo bottle on the side, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to do this, and then just ended up dripping it onto his face when he raised it in an attempt to get it onto his hair. He groaned and dropped the stupid thing, trying to wipe the soap away before it got in his eyes because that was _just_ what he needed.

"Jesus," Daniel sighed from the other side of the curtain, sounding irritated, probably at how loudly the container had clattered to the bottom. "Are you okay?"

Reid let out an aggravated grunt in response, blinking, and then picked the container back up and tried again, _thankfully_ with better luck. He was about to get out, feeling much better, when suddenly Daniel pulled back the curtain a bit in the front, enough he could see the other, and Reid exclaimed, turning around.

Daniel gave him a _look_, held the razor out towards him, and asked, "Done?"

Reid cringed, embarrassed, and then traded Daniel the shampoo for the razor, exiting the shower from the other side, watching the other get in and then sighing. He didn't know how Daniel was so..._okay _with being around others, even when he wasn't dressed. Reid would rather die than have anyone see him uncovered, to see everything wrong and hurt about his body, to see how many times he'd been used that he was absolutely positive was visible somewhere. He knew Daniel knew that, had _experienced _that, but he couldn't for the life of him stop comparing himself to the other.

He'd even caught a glimpse of Daniel's back, something he then immediately wished he hadn't. There were some scars, but they were faded, and small, and didn't look like they had been very deep at all. Which, of course, was wonderful...for Daniel. Reid felt even more self-conscious now, wincing when he remembered that Daniel had already seen _his_back.

He looked back down at the razor, trying to shake himself out of the thoughts, and then faced the mirror, frowning, feeling at his chin and above his lip. He looked older, less helpless, less...pathetic. He liked it. He didn't want to get rid of it. But The Man had always insisted his face look as young as it could, having gotten Reid trained to shave every single morning without even being asked. He was thrilled that his Master hadn't been angry about it, however; he hadn't meant to forget...and he wouldn't forget again. It was his job to assure he looked how He wanted. With a sigh, he tilted his head up, squeezed on the cream, and, all effort put into _not_ slicing his throat, gently glided the blade down.

While his hand was anything but steady, he managed to only nick himself once before he finished, proudly looking into the mirror, and then his face fell. He reached out and wiped some of the steam off the glass, then bit his lip as he stared at himself, at the bruises sucked onto his neck, the ones slapped onto his cheek, the darkened eyes that he wished were as bright as he vaguely remembered they had once been. He blankly watched as a thin line of blood trickled down to his chest, and then jumped when the curtain moved back and Daniel shut off the water, looking to the taller man and widening his eyes. "God, are you okay?" he asked again, rushing forward, grabbing a handful of toilet paper and wiping the blood away before holding it steady on the cut. He applied pressure for a minute and then gently lifted it away, tilting Reid's chin up to get a better look at it. "It's not deep. It'll be okay." He wet the paper and then patted the wound again, and Reid shivered and took a step closer to the warmth that was radiating off of the shorter man. Daniel mimicked him, only he was stepping _away_, and Reid felt ridiculous. He wouldn't want someone getting that close to him _either_—why did he think it was okay to do it to someone else? He was stupid, so, so, _so_ stupid...

"...Are you okay?" Daniel once again asked and Reid realized he was trembling. He nodded, and then he opened his mouth, wanting to say thank you, for _everything_, but after a moment he closed it again. His mouth wouldn't work for that; it wasn't _supposed_ to work for things like that.

And so Reid leaned forward and kissed the other, and Daniel inhaled sharply enough he choked. "Wait," he said urgently, and Reid pulled away and put his head down, waiting for a blow, or maybe a shove, or worse, maybe Daniel would end up telling The Man...what would He do to him for _this?_

"You didn't..." Daniel licked his lips. "You don't...have to do that. I know. You already thanked me. I'm not...I'm not like them. I don't want anything from you." He very slowly put his hand up, brushing his fingers against Reid's cheek, surprised when the other didn't flinch away immediately. "You're welcome. It's okay." he said, and then for some reason Reid ended up kissing him again, and this time Daniel didn't stop him, and his hands—much softer and gentler than The Man's—settled themselves on Reid's upper arms. And while Reid did the same with his good hand, he had _no idea _what he was doing—he didn't like Daniel, not like that. He didn't feel like that even now, yet he did not pull away. Maybe he just needed contact—contact that wouldn't hurt him. Reid stopped for a moment, just to be sure, moving back an inch, and Daniel did not pursue him, waiting until he came back, and Reid finally smiled. He didn't like Daniel like that...he liked Jennifer. But...it was just him and Daniel here right now, and Daniel wasn't exactly doing anything about it, and it happened to be more comfort than he'd felt in a long time, and so Reid thought that maybe, just for a few minutes, it would be okay.

Until the door swung open, a demand of what was taking so long halfway out of Jeremy's mouth before he froze, eyes wide in surprise as they both jerked away from each other and then stared at the man in sheer terror.

"Daniel! Get your ass out here, right now!"

"Yes, sir!"

"You too, slut!" Jeremy yelled at Reid, who flinched and then followed them both out.

"What the hell'd they do?" Wyatt asked, standing, and Jeremy pushed both younger men to their knees on the carpet. "Why don't you ask _them_?"

Wyatt was upon Reid in a mere second as he understood, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back, and Reid sobbed. "Did you fuck him, you little whore? Did you?"

"No! No, Master!"

"He didn't touch me, sir!" Daniel protested, and Jeremy smacked the back of his head hard enough his vision flashed white. "Was it you, then? You touched him?"

Shaking, Daniel slowly nodded. "Yes, Master."

Jeremy, for the first time, looked as angry as The Man did when Reid misbehaved, and Reid cried out as he struck Daniel to the floor, hard, and then kicked him.

"No!" Reid exclaimed, and Wyatt pulled back on his collar until he couldn't breathe enough to speak again, but he continued to struggle as Daniel was hit until Wyatt leaned down and hissed into Reid's ear, "You make one more move and I'll fuck up your other wrist. You won't be able to piss without help, you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Reid gasped, going still, beginning to cry when Daniel did, until finally Jeremy stopped, allowing Daniel to curl up, and then stepped back, hands on his hips, breathing hard. "I don't know what got into him; he isn't like that."

"This little ass is too good to resist," Wyatt chuckled, slapping Reid's behind, and Reid yelped.

"Don't you touch him again, boy," Jeremy then demanded, and Daniel let out a choked sound. "Yes, Master..." he moaned, and Reid looked away, utterly ashamed.

"You don't eat today, either." Jeremy added, and Daniel nodded, sluggishly, painfully.

Reid fell to his knees when Wyatt released him, panting, and his attempts to check to see if the other was alright were hindered by a sharp kick to his leg. He moaned quietly, less because of the pain and more because of the fact that he knew Daniel would want nothing more to do with him. Not after this. He'd ruined the only bond he'd had in his worthless life, and, as usual, he only had himself to blame.

But when Wyatt and Jeremy had left to get drinks, and Reid sat on the edge of the bed where he'd been told to stay, his still-bare back towards the wall, his eyes looking anywhere that wasn't in the direction of where Daniel still lay on the floor, he heard Daniel shift around. The other let out a soft grunt, pushed himself into a sitting position, and then Reid gasped when he felt Daniel gently touch his left hand, waiting for him to either allow it or pull away.

The older man did not move, and so Daniel gently intertwined their fingers together.

Reid closed his eyes for a moment, relieved, and smiled. Then, he squeezed Daniel's hand in a silent apology.

Daniel squeezed back, stroking his thumb along the top of Reid's hand, in a silent acceptance, and Brown moved his gaze back out the window and pretended like he hadn't seen a thing.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hope you guys are good, and hope you enjoy! :')**

**Reviews, as always, are highly appreciated and loved!**

_**xxx**_

_"There is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for."_

― J. R. R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

**19.**

The van was on the road again just as the sun was setting, with Daniel put in the seat across from Brown this time and only Spencer in the back. Both had one wrist cuffed to the door handle, and both had been absolutely silent, hardly daring to look up. It was, however, a relief, at least for Reid, as it had been the first time he had been in a room with a bed with his Master that He had not assaulted him. And, thankfully, no one had hurt Daniel, either...at least, not anymore. What he'd done...it was terribly confusing. Reid didn't know why Daniel had decided to take a beating instead of him...why would anyone do that? Especially for _him?_ Maybe the other had believed Jeremy would hurt him less than He would hurt Reid, which, in any case, was probably the truth. But still...Reid was unsure if he would have done that had the positions been switched. He liked to think he _would_ do that, do the _right_ thing, but... Thinking and acting were two very, very different things, and he was desperate to refrain from getting hurt, at least until his current injuries were a little better.

So, really, Daniel had saved him. And even more than that, he had made him feel...okay. Reid had even, ridiculously, refused The Man's attempts to kiss him before they left, something that got him smacked around until there were tears in his eyes, and even then, he didn't return it. He sat there and allowed The Man to do what He wanted, but he didn't move. He hadn't wanted The Man to contaminate him again, not after Daniel had, so very temporarily, made him feel like maybe he wasn't as dirty and unwanted as he felt almost every other second. The Man had seemed to know that this was what His pet was thinking, unfortunately, and had grabbed him, hung back as the others went to the car, and spent three entire minutes (that felt like three entire years) with Reid pinned to the wall, reminding him that he didn't get to choose what he did, or who got to touch him, because that wasn't his choice. He was worthless, undeserving, _nothing._

But...Daniel didn't see it that way, didn't see _him _that way; Reid knew that now. And out of all of them, Daniel's approval was the only approval he found he cared about at the moment. Daniel had thought he was deserving enough to be comforted, to be taken care of, to be kissed and asked what _he _wanted and even _protected,_ and while he still had an overwhelming sense of guilt, Reid was relatively content for now. Daniel had told him not to worry about what had happened, and despite Reid not being able to look away from the other's swollen cheek and eye, the dark split on his upper lip whenever he turned towards him, Daniel had reassured him it wasn't his fault, and truly seemed to believe it. It was...refreshing, to not be blamed for something, especially by the very person he thought would now hate him.

They ended up stopping at a gas station before getting back on the main highway, at which point the two youngest men were left alone as the other three went into the little store after filling up the van.

"How are you?" Daniel asked, softly, after a minute of silence, and Reid looked at him in confusion. How was _he? _How could Daniel _do _that? Act as if _Reid _was the one who needed to be fussed over? The other looked at him, and he nodded quickly and absentmindedly_—_because to hell with himself_—_and then pointed back to Daniel.

"I'm okay," he smiled, and then maneuvered himself so he could awkwardly reach his free hand back for Reid to hold, which he immediately did. "Really. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Spencer looked over the other's hand in his own, acting like it was some foreign object he had never seen before. Daniel watched him closely, curiously, and then Reid leaned forward and brought both of their hands to his cheek, gazing at Daniel with what was undoubtedly gratitude.

Daniel smiled, but it faltered after a moment. His eyes got a very distant look in them, and when Reid tapped his hand to bring him back, he said, "I'm scared, Spencer. I heard them talking before...way before, back at the house. They don't want to stay here anymore...what if...I don't..." He tried to pull his hand back, but Reid held onto it tightly, met their eyes, and shook his head.

"But what if—"

"Uh-uh!" Reid frowned, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper he had written on back at Jeremy's house, flattening it out best he could before pointing to the last sentence at the bottom. _My team will come._

"Not if they can't find us." Daniel said, solemnly, and then he brought his hand back to his lap and turned around, hanging his head, and Reid suddenly felt very, very alone.

It was another five hours before they reached Memphis, and another forty-five minutes to the place of Jeremy's friend, whom he had at one point called Richard. And when they drove up the long road leading to a house just as big as Wyatt and Marian's, the two captives and one ex-detective were appalled. A young, pale girl, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, stood outside, awkwardly waving the car. She was in a dark blue dress that was much too tight, and much too revealing, and it made the three cringe.

Jeremy unlocked and dragged both boys out of the car as the other two were greeted by the girl. "This way..." she murmured quietly, giving a tiny smile that had no emotion behind it, and Wyatt hooked a finger on Reid's collar to lead him along when he hesitated.

Upon entering the house, several more girls scattered to make way for them, and Richard, who was only a little taller than Daniel and came across as laughably nonthreatening, grinned and came over to shake Jeremy's hand. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Thanks for lettin' us stay a day or two."

"Anything for an old friend." He turned his attention to Wyatt and his brother, reaching out his hand for them, too. "You're both a little famous, hm?"

"What?" Brown frowned, and Richard chuckled. "You. The news. You're all over it."

"Thanks to this one," Wyatt said, rolling his eyes, and he pulled on Spencer's collar, making the younger cough and take a step back.

"Ah, yes! The federal agent. Spencer, is it?" He looked Reid over for a long moment, in which Reid wanted to disappear. The way his name had rolled off the man's tongue, the tone it had been said in...he liked being called pet better. "He'd make a lot of money, you know that? Less because of his age, but...the danger aspect is a turn-on."

Reid grimaced at that, feeling extremely vulnerable under all of their gazes, and yet when he tried to turn away Wyatt just put both hands on his shoulders and turned him right back.

"He's trained well," Jeremy nodded, and Wyatt added quickly, "But not for sale. He's mine. Right, pet?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you wouldn't ever want to leave me, would you?"

"No, Master."

Richard gave Wyatt a look of approval and then gestured to the young girl who had met them, who then came over to him. "I feel the same way about a few of mine...the rest are...replaceable, really."

Brown swallowed hard, cringing again, but he remained silent and off to the side as they spoke, his eyes on the unnamed girl at Richard's arm, her own gaze on the ground. Her lips still had a smile on them, but it was clearly all for show. No one could possibly mistake the girl's misery...except of course maybe the idiots he was surrounded by. Not that they gave a shit either way; Spencer looked like that constantly and Wyatt never gave him a second glance.

He tuned them all in again as he heard a soft, protesting sound from Reid, looking up to see Daniel grasped by the hand by Richard and led towards the stairs, his head lowered.

"What did I tell you about whining?" Wyatt said, striking the younger man, and Reid staggered back, blinking hard several times before he seemed to come back to himself, wincing and putting a hand on his head. He ended up almost grateful for the distraction from the pain in his empty stomach, though it made the vague dizziness he'd been feeling due to lack of _everything _more pronounced, and he suddenly felt like he was going to fall.

Wyatt pursed his lips in mock sympathy. "Oh, did that hurt, pet?"

"Sorry, Master..." He put his arm out, trying to regain his balance, and exclaimed when Brown came closer and attempted to help. Disgusted, Reid slapped the man's hands away and then hung his head, waiting to be hit back. Brown didn't look upset, though. He just looked sad, and it made Reid feel even sicker.

Jeremy finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. "You want a drink?" he asked the other two, and while Wyatt nodded, practically dragging Reid with him to the other room, Brown didn't reply. He hung back until he was alone and then leaned against the wall and contemplated his entire life in the silence.

**THEN  
(2 Years, 26 Days)**

_"Come on, you can do it! Just a little more!"_

_"Damnit," Charlie hissed in pain, pausing his task of __twisting the third and last bolt in his chain out. "My fingers hurt!"_

_"Just a little more,"__ Beth repeated, and while she was trying to sound patient, her feet tapped urgently against the cement, nodding when Charlie went back to what they'd been working on since they'd found that, by some miracle, the screws on his chain were looser than any of theirs. "That's it!"_

_"This is crazy," Kyle said, rubbing at his face, and William shot him a nasty look. "You wanna stay here forever?"_

_"God no."_

_"Then hurry up, Charl!"_

_"I am, you—holy _shit_." They all went silent as the bolt clattered to the floor, staring at it, and then Charlie jerked on the metal around his ankle, gasping as it came apart. He stood up, stepped away from the bed, and then looked back at them. "Holy shit!"_

_"Oh my g—you did it! Get the keys!"_

_Charlie rushed over to the stairs, got up one, and then froze when it creaked loudly. "What if He comes back?"_

_"It's been forever! He's probably dead, too! Please! Go!"_

_Taking a deep breath, Charlie slowly climbed up to the top, grabbed the ring of two keys next to the door, and then fled back down so quickly he almost tripped, proudly holding them up. "I got 'em!"_

_"Hurry up!"_

_Charlie nodded, rushing over to them, unlocking William's foot first, as he was closest, and watching as the other boy jumped up, wobbled a bit, and then went over to where their oldest friend was hanging motionless._

_"Spencer?" William began, shaking the other's leg. "Spencer, wake up. Please, wake up."_

_"He's not..." Rosie murmured slowly, uncertainly, as Charlie crouched down to free her. "He's not..._dead_, right?"_

_William looked up at the other, squinting at him, but he didn't see any movement—none of them had since after The Man had come down what must have been nearly two days ago, yelling about Her having died and how much He wanted to kill all of them, striking Spencer despite the children's protests until he'd spat out blood and shuddered and then gone still. Then, grumbling angrily, He'd left, thankfully without fulfilling any of His threats, slamming the door above hard enough it had bounced back open a bit._

_Every once and a while they had heard Spencer breathe a little louder, like he was going to open his eyes, but he never did, and now William couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Spencer breathe at all. "Spencer..." he tried again, his voice breaking, and the others gathered around him. He desperately wanted to reach up to feel under the other's chin, to see if he even had a pulse, but none of them were tall enough. Instead, he inched up Spencer's pant leg and felt his ankle...and it was cold. But that didn't mean...that_couldn't _mean...right? They were all cold...it was friggin' cold down here...that _had_ to be why._

_"Spencer, please...please wake up. We can go!"_

_Charlie held up the second key. "Here, Rosie, get on my shoulders. You gotta get him down, okay?"_

_She nodded in agreement, and, although they were all weak, Charlie managed to stay steady enough that Rosie could free up Spencer's wrists, both of them falling back down as the older collapsed._

_"Ugh."_

_William whirled around, staring at all three of them, wondering if it was he who had made the noise or one of the others. "Spencer?"_

_"Mmh." Spencer replied, trying to open his eyes, and William let out a relieved laugh. "God, we thought you were...well." he said quietly, and Spencer finally met his gaze, frowning in confusion. He moved his hands, then his feet, and then his hands again. "Huh?"_

_"We did it. We can go! We have to go, right now!"_

_Spencer blinked hard at him, and then again, much slower. "Uh-huh." he mumbled, putting his head back down, and William touched his face, getting him to jerk away and look up again. "You can't sleep! You gotta get up!"_

_Looking like he was just now realizing this was _not_ a dream, Spencer hauled himself to his knees with a groan, pausing long enough William had to ask if he could stand._

_Spencer did end up at last getting up, staggering a bit before steadying himself. He took a moment to fully process the situation, and then slowly, in a daze, made his way over to the stairs, the children following closely behind. He didn't know how much time had passed since The Man had been down here, and he feared that He would just be waiting beyond the door. Maybe this was a test, or just an excuse for Him to punish them, or—_

_"Spencer!"_

_He flinched at the urgency in Rosie's voice, taking a deep breath, and then pushed the door open, leading them into the house, and then finally, _finally_, after what felt like decades, out the front door._

_There was no car. There was no Him. There was no _anything_. Just a chance, a chance he knew they would never get again, and so he pushed the children on and motioned for them to run, falling behind a few meters but never losing sight of them._

_It was when Rosie started to cry that they finally halted, collapsing into the nearest shelter they could find, gasping for air and trembling._

_"Ssh," Reid murmured, petting Rosie's hair, and then the girl next to her started to tear up too, and Reid wiped at his own eyes because he didn't know what to do now, and he knew he was supposed to. What if The Man had been following them? What if—_

_"Spencer," William said, and Reid blinked hard at the child, who put a finger to his lips and then, with his other hand, pointed towards the dark road, from which Reid now realized he could hear a siren or two from, looking down it to see flashing blue and red lights._

_"I wanna go home!" Rosie wailed, standing up and going towards the opening in the park's gazebo, but Reid grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. "Uh-uh!" He stood up, blocking them from getting out (or more so, anyone from getting in), and stayed there as an ambulance and a police car screeched up to the side of the road, and three officers hopped out, flashlights clicking on._

_"Hello?" one of them called, and William called, "Here!"_

_Reid whirled on him, absolutely livid, because this _had_ to be some sort of trick, and now—and—_

_"Hey," the same officer said, quietly, as they approached. "Hey, are you okay, kid? Who's crying?"_

_William tried to push past Spencer, but Reid just pushed him back harder, his eyes narrowed at the men, and then one of them leaned over and spoke into the radio on his shoulder. "Uh...there're some kids here."_

_The radio hissed with static, and then someone else, sounding horribly concerned that the word was plural, replied, "...Kids?"_

_"Yeah," the officer said, drawling on the first letter, keeping his eyes on Reid. "Yeah, we have a little problem. I'm gonna need another ambulance...or two."_

_"How many are there?"_

_The officer stepped a few times to his left, looking over Reid's shoulder, either ignoring or not seeing the scowl Reid was giving him, and after a moment said, "Eight."_

_"Jesus."_

_Rosie let out a sudden, loud sob, and the officer immediately moved towards them only to have Reid again stand between them._

_"Get the hell outta the way, kid!" he snarled, angrily, reaching out and grabbing Reid's shoulder to shove him aside. Reid shrieked, staggered back, and then lost his balance, falling down on his back. The officer went past him to the kids while another knelt beside Reid, far too close, and Reid whimpered, scooting backwards.  
_

_"Are you okay?" the man asked him, frowning, and Reid ignored him, looking back to where the first man was touching Rosie, crying out and trying to get to his feet before the officer tackled him back down, flipping him onto his stomach._

_"No! No!" Reid shouted as the man forced his arms behind his back and cuffed them there, a knee digging into the bend of Reid's legs.__ "No! No, p-p-pl—no!"_

_"Calm down! Right now! Christ. Hey! You! EMT! Get over here! You gotta give this kid something!"_

_Reid was rolled onto his back as another man was suddenly next to him, and then he kicked out, hitting one of them in the jaw and feeling a surge of fear as he realized how much trouble that was going to get him in. But he just_ couldn't_ anymore...he never wanted to be touched again, not ever, just, God, make them _stop...

_"Spencer!" William called, unable to comfort the older man when he was being held away by the officer next to him. "It's okay!"_

_Except it really fucking _wasn't_ okay, and Reid squirmed frantically against their hold, and then something pricked his shoulder, something he didn't see, and by the time he'd turned his head to look, his vision had already started to shimmer. No, no, no, not again, he couldn't_— _"No! No more!" he sobbed, writhing until he didn't have enough strength to do anything but lay there, helpless, panting, fighting to keep his eyes open because _he couldn't go back.

_He heard more static on the radio, and more talking, but he couldn't make out the words, and then someone was lifting him up and onto a stretcher, which he only registered as a bed and that made him cry even harder. "No...no...no..." he mumbled, over and over again, and the officers exchanged a look of uncertainty._

_"You want him to the station?" the paramedic asked._

_"Yeah. But have him looked over at the hospital, okay? He's not right."_

_"Sure thing."_

_"Help..." Reid murmured, weakly, almost unheard over the commotion._

_"We're getting them help. We're getting_ you _help.__ Can you tell us your name, sir? Is it Spencer? What's your last name? Who are those children? What is your relation to them? Sir, can you hear us? Spencer? Hey, Spencer?"_

_Reid looked up at them, overwhelmed, and they only stopped asking questions when the younger man's eyes rolled up and no effort to bring him back around was successful._

_"Christ!" The second paramedic suddenly cursed several times before rushing over to them. "Those kids—"_

_"Are they okay?"_

_"They all seem to be fine. But I think I recognized a few of them."_

_"From where?"_

_"From missing posters. You remember when all those kids from Chicago and a few from the lower half of the States were kidnapped? Like, two years ago?"  
_

_The officer did a double-take at the kids that were being led out and towards the ambulances, and then sighed heavily. "Christ. So...we found our UnSub?"_

_"Him? He's so young...and_ scared."

_"Wait, wait...isn't he that federal agent from Quantico? Reese or something? He went missing, too...sure looks like him now that I think about it."_

_"Well _shit_. Someone give them a call...make sure. If it is him...this just got a hell of a lot more complicated."_


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hello! Another (hopefully good) week, another chapter! Hope you all enjoy!**

**Reviews are lovely and appreciated as always! :)**

**WARNINGS: More mentions of Brown/Wyatt's childhood abuse.**

_**xxx**_

_"They waited for life to happen to them. They waited for someone to save them. Or heal them. They did nothing for themselves."_

― Louise Penny, Still Life

**20.**

Jeremy's friend's house had three stories, with a basement and attic that the captives—the _whores_, as they all so elegantly put it—were split between whenever Richard believed they were unnecessary. Usually this was only at night, because he preferred to have them all cleaning and preparing for whatever he was doing that night. He was the only one who officially lived in the place, but he let friends stay over much of the time, and sometimes, he bragged, he even brought home a woman, locking the rest of them away so they could not be seen.

Despite his initial appearance—which Reid had decided was very similar to The Man—Richard seemed to be like Jeremy, at least, before his outburst on Daniel. Only one of the girls had any visible bruises, and only then it was just a small one on her cheekbone. They all looked...relatively content, and they weren't all skin and bones, so were clearly fed and well kept.

_Kept. _Reid felt nauseous at the word. His fingers reached up and touched the collar he was suddenly all too aware everyone could see, and he had an urgent need to rip it the_ hell_ _off _of him.

"Pet!"

Reid flinched violently and whirled around, trying to identify where He was before a slap did it for him. The Man was sitting a little ways away from where he stood on the couch, next to Jeremy, both drinking a bottle of beer. The Man waved Spencer over, and he obediently came and sat, uncomfortably, between them, His hand coming to rest on his leg, just as possessive as ever. Reid stared down at it like it was something new, and then blankly looked up as Brown came in.

"Wyatt..." he began carefully, "we're not staying here for too long, right?"

"Why are you in such a rush?"

"Uh,_ I don't know,_ maybe because we're officially at the top of the FBI's most fucking wanted list?"

"And you think that's my fault?"

"_What?_" Brown shook his head quickly. "No, no. It's...just..."

"You wanted to bail on me, huh? Go without me. That's what it is. Too fuckin' bad."

"God, just, never mind!" Brown pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. He looked back up after a moment and met Reid's cold gaze, and then decided the floor was where his attention should stay.

"Anyway," Wyatt continued, "no. We aren't staying long. We're taking the latest flight tomorrow night out of the states. Rich's friend is setting it all up."

Reid heard the words, but it took a minute for them to actually settle in and comprehend in his head. Flight...? Airport...? They were...? No, that couldn't be, he was mistaken. Jeremy, when he had mentioned that option before, had said nothing about The Man planning it for certain. They weren't leaving. They couldn't be leaving.

And then, at once, what Daniel had said in the car made sense. _'They don't want to stay here anymore.'_ He hadn't meant 'here' as in the state, but 'here' as in the entire _country_.

"No..." he said unknowingly, under his breath, beginning to breathe quicker, and The Man gave him an expression that was both annoyed and quizzical. "Don't do something stupid, pet. I'd hate to hurt you so bad again. Is that what you want?"

"No." Reid moaned, bending over a bit, holding his wrist close and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Master. No. Please."

"Good boy. You have no say in this. What, did you expect to stay here forever? Were you waiting for your friends to come and find you? Hm?"

"No s-sir. No sir."

"I thought you had already accepted that wasn't going to happen." He chuckled, cruelly, and then grabbed Reid's injury and hastily jerked it up, making him cry out. "You should know you're never going to see them again."

Tears trailing down his cheeks, uncontrollably, he practically collapsed into The Man's lap. "Please stop, sir! Master, _please!_"

The Man threw Reid's arm back at him, and Reid reached up and put his left hand over his mouth.

"Don't you dare get sick, you little shit," He growled, shoving Reid off of Him. "I'm tired of cleaning up after you!"

Reid had his eyes screwed shut in pain, probably oblivious anything had been said at all, and then Brown pointed to the hall. "The bathroom's..."

"Stop talking." The Man growled, and then Reid gagged and coughed and He grabbed his hair and virtually tossed him off the couch. "Get out of here. You," He pointed to His brother, "Don't you let him out of your sight."

"Yeah," Brown said, and then gently took the back of Reid's shirt as he staggered up to him, leading him back down the hall they'd just come and then giving him a small push into the bathroom. The younger man dropped to his knees and leaned over the toilet with just a second to spare, and Brown winced, reaching in to close the door because he wasn't watching _that. _Through the door, however, he could hear Reid sobbing between dry heaves, moaning in what was in unmistakably anguish, and it made Brown's own stomach flip, almost painfully. He stepped back, ran his hands through his hair, and then leaned against the wall. No, no, he couldn't do this anymore. He had to get Reid, he had to get them _all_ out of here.

_Are you crazy? _he asked himself, scowling at the very idea of betraying his brother. _You wanna go to jail, too?_

Wyatt was insane; Brown knew that. He had always been insane and a little sadistic, but this? _This?_ Brown was allowing his brother to beat, scar, and _rape_ an innocent kid? What the fuck was wrong with him? Was going to jail really worse than _that?_

He realized Reid had gone quiet in the room, and he knocked once on the door before opening it to find the federal agent a weeping mess on the floor, curling up further once Brown entered, shielding his head with his good arm, the other somewhere underneath his rigid, shaking body. "Master, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. I'll be good! I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry..."

"N-no...no. I'm...it's not him. It's me. It's Garrett..." he said, as if that was supposed to be any comfort.

Reid only groaned, and then Brown stepped in, trying to act like he didn't hear Reid start crying harder, and turned on the shower. "You can take a shower...that'll make you feel better, okay?"

The younger man wearily looked up, and Brown saw that his nose was bleeding, though didn't remember seeing him hurt it. Of course, he'd been hit so many times...it couldn't possibly take much trauma to cause an old injury to flare up again. And it hadn't only been days...it'd been _two years. _Their eyes met, just for a second, and Brown saw so much pain in them, so much anger, and fear...so much hopelessness.

It broke the ex-detective's heart.

He shook his emotions away best he could and gestured towards the tub. "Do you want a shower? Or...or a bath?"

Reid wiped blood off his upper lip and then looked at the other like he was crazy—choices? He wasn't supposed to have _choices_—and so Brown reached into the tub, plugged the drain, and shrugged. Maybe it would give Reid time away from Wyatt in order for him to relax...maybe...oh god, who was he kidding—how could anyone relax living a life like this?

Brown sighed. "I'll be right back," he said, and then hesitantly went back into the living room where Wyatt was nearly done with his second beer, just since they'd gotten here, in his hand, and Richard had joined them. The television before them was on, and they were chattering, almost as if they were normal people, about a sports game.

Wyatt scowled once he looked up. "Where the hell is he?"

"He...he got sick on himself..." Brown quietly lied, his eyes darting. "He needed a bath. He was dirty. I didn't...I didn't think you would want him back out here like that."

Wyatt made a disgusted expression and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You better watch him."

"I will. I am."

"You better." Wyatt reiterated, and then Brown scratched the back of his neck. "Another pair of clothes for him...?"

"Get the fuck out of here!" Wyatt rolled his eyes. "It's his own damn fault. I told him, I'm sick of cleaning up after him. You seem so worried, _you_ find something."

Richard snapped his fingers to get Brown's attention. "Ask one of my girls to get a pair for him."

"O-okay."

"Stop stammering," Wyatt muttered, and Brown backed out and heaved a long sigh. He was starting to fully remember how _lovely_ it had been living with his brother, especially after their father died. Their mother had only ever been depressed and drunk, and although Brown himself was older and had always been in charge, Wyatt had always acted like _he_ was after that. And Brown, of course, had gone along with it because it was that or going to jail for murder. He'd just turned 18 then, and knew he would be charged as an adult, and put _away_ like an adult...in an adult prison. Brown could sure as hell act tough, could fool just about anyone if he tried hard enough, but that was so people would leave him alone, so they didn't think he was as weak as he probably was, but he didn't know if he could keep it up every moment of the day for twenty or more years...He would be lucky if he survived a week.

And, obviously, he sure as hell didn't want to be subjected to more of what his father had done to him...what he had allowed his father to do to Wyatt. Not _purposely_, of course—there was no deal made between him and his father, as Wyatt constantly accused him of doing. One night the man had just...skipped over Brown's room, and Brown had decided he wouldn't say anything in fear of it stopping (or rather, _it _starting back up). He was _beyond_ afraid of his father after being beaten into acceptance of the abuse his entire life...and he had been selfish. He knew that. But at the time it had just seemed like he was saving himself, and like he shouldn't have had to care about who the next victim was, not after everything he'd been through.

Wyatt had, in the weeks that they had known each other, been a piece of shit anyway—whiny, spoiled, and slightly psychotic. He had done nothing but bitch to Brown about the two adults getting married, and one time he had shoved Brown out of the tree-house at Wyatt's house and sprained his arm, something his father had only ignored later, and so maybe Brown believed he deserved a little wake-up call. And Wyatt had quieted down after that, and he hardly looked at anyone, and once he confided in Brown what was happening, and that the man had threatened his mother if he went to anyone, Brown had simply said, "You oughta listen to him."

And, well, that had pretty much been the end of them conversing at all. They sort of avoided each other, and then Brown hadn't done a single thing about it until after he had graduated, and the man came home while Wyatt and his mother were out and pinned him down and tried to hurt him like he hadn't in years. And when Brown had resisted, he had beaten him, until Brown had managed to find the strength to wrestle the man out into the hallway and to the top of the stairs. His father shoved his arm into Brown's neck, choking him, telling him to be a good boy just like he had every other time, and then Brown had just barely managed to kick his knees up, propelling the man's body over his head and down the stairs, and until Wyatt had returned and exclaimed in horror, Brown hadn't fully comprehended that the mangled mess at the bottom of the stairs that all he could do was numbly stare at…was, in fact, the person he had just murdered.

Brown shook at the very thought of it, walking back towards the bathroom. Wyatt had used that against him from then on, and Brown, of course, had let him, especially after their mother had spiraled downwards. It was Brown's fault, anyway...and when their mother had literally used her last breaths to beg him to make it up to Wyatt, as if Brown had never had anything happen to him...God, he didn't want to think anymore. He was useless, and he meant nothing to anyone, especially Wyatt. Why was he helping someone who didn't care about him?

"Hey," he said gently when he opened the door, and Spencer recoiled instantly, clumsily covering himself with the shirt he'd only just managed to bring himself to take off.

"Oh, god." Brown breathed out, almost silently, as he took in the horrifying sight of the other's scarred body from the waist up. Reid shrank back against the wall, trying to hide from the staring—nothing good _ever_ happened when men stared at him—and then Brown shook his head, snapping himself out of it. "I...I, um...I'm...I wanted to...I'm gonna get you...something else to wear...just...stay here, okay?" He didn't wait for a response, sickened, and he ended up shutting the door before he'd even fully stopped speaking.

Reid watched him go, surprised. He'd never seen the ex-detective act like that...was he finally starting to realize he couldn't ignore what was happening anymore? Or was he just trying to trick Reid? Maybe he wanted to sleep with him, too. Maybe he was just pretending to be nice in order to get favors. That was all anyone else did, anyway. Except Daniel...Daniel hadn't yet wanted anything. Oh shit, where _was _Daniel? Reid hoped he was okay...hoped when he emerged he would see him, and maybe Daniel would smile at him and make him feel a little better.

He thought for a bit before reaching out to stop the water, and then, slowly, cautiously, he undressed himself totally and climbed into the tub. The water was fairly hot, but it did not burn; in fact, it felt a bit comforting—he hadn't realized how cold he was until there was suddenly this blanket on top of him, and he, for a moment, felt relaxed. He settled down and let out a groan he hoped wasn't too loud. He wanted to be alone. He wanted this. He desperately _needed_ this. He didn't know why Brown had helped him, but then again...he didn't know if he really cared. It wasn't like Brown was going to do anything more than this. But it was nice... He closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling almost like he was...safe. Home. Like he was a human being.

And then, in an instant, it was over as he remembered that he had less than twenty-four hours to find a way out, or for his friends to find a way in. And who knew where they were? Who knew if they would even ever know he was here until it was too late? Could...could _he _do it? Escape? Really escape, and not be dragged back and beaten half to death? He wouldn't leave Daniel, and he couldn't leave any of the rest of them. No...He had to somehow let his team know he was here...let _someone _know he was here, anyone who could help. Reid wasn't strong enough to do it himself, and even with Daniel he knew they didn't stand a chance against the two men who would do anything to prevent them from leaving. The Man was not invincible, but Reid could not hurt Him, and knew that he never would. But his friends...they were a far different story. _And_ they were armed, something Reid would have given anything to have been the night he was taken, any of the nights since, _right now._

_And what would you do? Shoot Him? _Reid cringed at the very thought. If he ever found it in himself, he would probably end up missing, or The Man would come back from it totally fine _just_ to hurt him again. Reid couldn't escape Him. Not without help.

_What if help never comes?_

Reid sucked in sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. No, no,_ no._ It would. It had to. _They _had to.

But then again...that's what he'd thought, hoped, _prayed _for every day for two _years,_ too, and that'd gotten him absolutely nowhere, hadn't it?


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Whoa, hey guys! Sorry for the long wait (and the hella weird update time :P)! I needed a bit of a break from everything to handle some personal stuff, but I'm back and better than ever! This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, so hope you enjoy! :D Thanks everyone for sticking with me! **

**Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated! :')**

_**xxx**_

_"We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out."_

― Winston S. Churchill

**21.**

"Morgan?"

"What?"

"Take a breath, okay? You've got that whole 'I'm about to kill everyone' thing going on."

With an infuriated sigh, Morgan blinked hard and took a long, slow breath that did absolutely nothing to calm him―not that he thought it would in the first place. His hands clenched the wheel hard enough they ached, and he shook his head. "This is gettin' real old, real fast. I'm sick'a chasin' these fucks around!"

"I know." JJ looked down at her phone, checking to see if anyone had called when she already knew they hadn't. "We all are. It wasn't our fault, though, okay? We couldn't have known they were lying."

"I shoulda. I shoulda...Jesus, move!" Morgan practically punched the horn, startling the driver in front of them enough that they looked up to see the light was green, and JJ made a face like maybe she was trying not to laugh.

Glancing at her out of the corners of his eyes, Morgan scoffed. "Don't look like that."

"I've just never seen you get road rage before."

"I've never needed to! Wh―" He slammed the breaks, jerking them both forward. "Hey! What the hell? You saw that? He just pulled right out―Christ, I didn't know they let toddlers drive!"

"Oh my god," JJ covered her mouth and openly giggled while Morgan let out a 'hmmph!' sound, although secretly he was delighted to hear her laughing, even for a brief moment.

When they reached the bank, the parking lot was far emptier than it had been the last time. All of the employee spaces were vacant, and the two agents exchanged a concerned expression as they got out of the car...what the hell were they going to do if they had run?

"Ohhoh, I swear," Morgan said, opening the front door for JJ and clenching his teeth. "If they―"

The elevator dinged, and they turned around just as it opened, revealing a three men, including the two who had been on the security camera, smiles immediately dropping off their faces faces as their gazes all met the agents'.

"Don't move!" JJ shouted, her gun quickly in her hand, and then both of the men fled in opposite directions, one towards the front exit and the second towards the back. Morgan darted after the first, out the door before JJ could say a word, and when she looked back at the third the elevator doors had already closed again.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, and then jogged down the hallway towards the back after the other. She couldn't run as well as she usually could have―if she had known this would happen, she would have let Prentiss come instead! "Hey! Stop!"

She burst outside and staggered to a halt, breathing heavily, weapon still pointed out in front of her, and shouted at the top of her lungs at the fleeing suspect, almost halfway across the lot by now. "Stop or I'll shoot!"

The man didn't stop, but he glimpsed back, picked up his pace, and then tripped over something on the concrete, slamming himself headfirst against a parking chock, something that brought his escape attempt to an indefinite halt.

JJ was still for a moment, startled, and then she quickly went over to him, holstering her gun and wrenching his hands behind his back to cuff them. He groaned loudly but didn't struggle as she then flipped him onto his back and pointed the gun at him again. "Remember me?" she panted, and he blearily stared up at her. "Huh?"

She turned when she heard footsteps to see Morgan running up to join her, holding out his arms. "He disappeared." he said as he approached, and then glared at the partially conscious suspect, kicking him in the side with his shoe once he was close enough, jerking him up. "Hey! Wake the hell up!"

The man moaned again, squinting, and Morgan slapped him. "Hey. You with me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Tell me what you know, right fucking now."

"Huh?"

Don't play with me, man, this ain't a game!" He forced a smile when the man averted his gaze, and then suddenly brought out his gun and pushed it under the suspect's jaw while JJ looked away. She didn't care by what means they got answers anymore. Let her be fired―as long as they found Spencer. "Tell me where he is! Spencer Reid! Federal agent! Jeremy Taylor, Wyatt Anderson, Garrett Brown! Don't fuck with me! We saw you and your buddy back there givin' him money and havin' a nice little chat with him the other day."

"N-no, no, I swear!"

"We have footage! What, you wanna see it?"

"I...I didn't want to!"

Morgan scowled. "You what?"

"I had to! They'll kill me, bro, let me go!"

"Oh, no. You're going to jail, _bro_, for obstruction of justice, accessory to murder, kidnapping―"

"No, no, I didn't help them!"

"Alright, enough with the excuses. I don't care if you did or not, to be honest. Tell me where they took the federal agent they took."

"I don't know! Somewhere in Tennessee, I think, I don't know―I overheard that!"

"Tennessee? Why?"

"They're getting the fuck out of here. On a plane!"

"Where?"

"I swear I don't know!"

"Morgan," JJ murmured, and the other stood up and holstered his weapon. "You better not be holding anything else back."

"I'm not!"

"Good. Get up, come on." He grabbed the suspect by the back of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. "Move. Let's go! Walk!"

Once they were all in the car, with the suspect in the back, Morgan was still fuming as he called Hotch, practically yelling as they pulled out onto the road.

"Did you talk to them?" Hotch asked, the rest of them gathering around the phone as he put it on speaker.

"They ran. But we got one of them."

"Did he know something?"

"He said they're somewhere in Tennessee."

"What the hell?" Garcia exclaimed, outraged. "Why?"

"I have no idea. I guess he doesn't either. He better hope we don't find out if he's lyin'. There'll be hell to pay." A pause. "I...uh...um..."

"Morgan?" they heard JJ ask, sounding worried. "That was cutting it a little close, don't you think?"

"I'm―aw, I'm―fuck!"

"Morgan, what's wrong?" Hotchner frowned, crossing his arms, and there was a clatter as Morgan must have dropped the phone, and when they heard the others' voices they were slightly muffled.

"What?"

"Shit, the―the brakes aren't―they're not―"

"They're not _what?_"

"Working!"

"Jesus―"

"Hey! What the fuck did your friend do, huh?"

"Morgan, _look out!_"

They heard a loud clatter, and what might have been JJ screaming, and then they heard nothing but the steadily beeping tone that informed them that the call had been disconnected.

**_xxx_**

Spencer didn't know how long he was left alone, but it was far longer than The Man had ever allowed before. The water stayed warm and he stayed content for the whole time, trying to let himself have just this little while to not worry, but he only ever managed a few minutes before he had to chase the thoughts away again, which took a lot longer. When the door opened, he sat up, his eyes still closed, waiting for violence, but when he finally blinked he saw that it was only Brown, again, coming to take his old clothes, although he didn't seem to have new ones yet. Reid must have looked as confused as he felt when the man didn't hurt him, because Brown rolled his eyes and said, "I'm not my brother."

_Aren't you?_ Reid thought, frowning, and Brown looked taken aback as Reid realized he had said it out loud. He quietly apologized and laid back down, facing the wall, both shielding himself from a blow if it came, and, well, maybe he wanted the fucker to see what he was allowing to happen. Brown, as expected, again found himself unable to look away from the younger man's back...from what his own brother had done to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, suddenly, and Reid didn't move. "Are you hungry? Or...or...?"

Reid ignored him, closing his eyes, wishing he could drown out the man's voice, or maybe drown himself, because this was getting to be so pathetic it was physically painful.

"Whatever." Brown shrugged, and then as he was leaving Reid murmured, "I'm very hungry, sir."

Brown stopped. "Okay...okay. I can try to...I mean, I...okay."

_Okay_. Reid scoffed as the door shut again, shaking his head, the water lapping against his chin as he lowered it. _Nothing is okay. _

He spent a few minutes in a blissful silence before someone began yelling, and Reid sat up so fast that water splashed over the side of the porcelain tub. He scrambled to grab the towel hanging from the rack on the wall and wipe it up before anyone saw, and then he stood up straight when he heard footsteps pounding their way towards the room. His eyes stung, and he was trembling, and he had to stifle a sob when He burst into the room, scowling, grabbing Reid's upper arm.

"Do you think this is playtime, pet? Do you think you get to just stay in here and get away from me? Huh?"

"No, sir," Reid mumbled, cringing, because The Man's breath stunk of alcohol, and when He got drunk, He was...Reid didn't have a word that fit how terrifying The Man was when He wasn't sober.

"No, sir! I love you, Master! I do!"

"Lies." Wyatt shoved him, and he fell back into the water with a cry, dazed. "I l-love you, sir!" he gasped, and then, in response, Wyatt dropped to his knees, grabbed Reid's hair, and forced his head below the surface.

"Wyatt! Stop!" Brown exclaimed, pushing his way into the tiny room. He grabbed his brother's arm, yanking it back, and Wyatt only released the kid long enough he could elbow Brown away from him. "Fuck off!"

"Let him go! You're drunk!"

"Why do you fucking care what happens to him, huh?"

"You're gonna kill him!"

"No, I won't. He needs to learn. I can do whatever the hell I want with him!"

"No, you can't!" Brown finally raised his fist and struck it against Wyatt's jaw. Wyatt released the younger man and stood up, scowling, grabbing Brown by his shoulders and forcing him against the door, an arm against his neck. Brown stared at him, wide-eyed, and took comfort from the fact he could hear Reid coughing and gasping and definitely alive in the background.

"Don't you ever fucking touch me again, you piece of shit. You hear me? I will kill you. I will _kill_ you!"

"You can't do this…to him…you can't do this…to me!" Brown wheezed, and Wyatt brought him an inch forward and then slammed him against the wood again. "I can do whatever the fuck I want, to both of you." He kicked Brown between his legs and let him drop to the ground, as if to prove it. "You handed him over, remember? He's with me again because of _you_. Don't think that that means I'm not still pissed!"

"I've…done…everything…you wanted…I always have!"

"It doesn't change anything, does it? Does it? _Does it?_"

"No."

"What?"

"No!"

"You son of a fucking bitch! You son of a…" Wyatt trailed off, turning away, and Brown managed to sit up, gasping. Wyatt brought his fist against Brown's chest, but it had hardly any strength behind it, and then he shook his head and lowered it, shaking, and he let out a very quiet noise that sounded…almost like…

"You son of a _bitch_…"

"I'm sorry." Brown said, breathing hard, and then his gaze went to where Reid was still kneeling in the tub, his mouth open, his wide eyes on them. His Master was…_crying?_ No…that wasn't possible. In two years, The Man had never once showed any sign of weakness. He only had anger and stress and sadism and sexual desires—there were no tears_, _or _pain, _not on His part, only on Reid's.

Brown shook his head, just once, because he knew what Reid was thinking. But the damage had been done, and the side of the agent's mouth twitched for a moment in which the only thing he was aware of was the fact that The Man, his abuser, his torturer, his fucking _rapist…_was crying. In this moment, he was stronger than Him. It didn't matter that it was caused by the drunken stupor He was clearly in. Reid was stronger. Reid wasn't crying. He simply kneeled there, watching while the one who had never done anything but cause him pain, sat limp on the ground, His head on Brown's shoulder, crying, weak. _Weak._ He was weak. He...was..._weak._

Overjoyed at this discovery, Reid, for the first time in what felt like forever, really smiled, and knew He couldn't do one Goddamn thing about it this time.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you all are having a great week, and hope you enjoy! :D**

**Reviews, as always, are highly appreciated and welcomed! :)**

**WARNINGS: Use of illegal drugs. Implied non-con. The second half with Richard is just pretty damn uncomfortable in general.**

_**xxx**_

_"The lion does not need the whole world to fear him, only those nearest where he roams."_

― A.J. Darkholme, Rise of the Morningstar

**22.**

It took almost ten minutes before Wyatt had composed himself enough that he pushed Brown away and staggered to his feet, holding onto the counter and staring over at Reid, who hadn't moved an inch—hadn't even brushed the strands of hair stuck to his face away. He flinched under His gaze but didn't lower his own, and Wyatt scowled. "Keep your eyes down, you little slut, and_ stand up_."

Reid hesitated for a second, still baffled by what had just happened, and then Wyatt loomed over him, grabbed his throat, and hauled him to his feet anyway. "You think something changed?" he whispered menacingly, his eyes wide with rage, and Reid choked. "Huh? You think you can disobey me now? I will _end_ you, you hear? And oh, I won't just stop there, no, no. I'll find a way to hurt your little friend, too. You think Jeremy will care? Hah! You're both worthless little whores! And oh boy, your team? I could do a lot of damage to everything you know and get away clean. I have so far. What makes you think I won't this time? Is that what you want?"

Reid gasped when The Man's grip loosened enough he could get a breath and answer, and then he shook his head as much as he could manage. "_No,_ Master!"

"Tell me!"

"Don't want that, Master! Please, sir. I'm sorry. I love you, Master!"

"Good boy." Wyatt clumsily brought him into a rough kiss and then released him, grabbing the towel on the back of the door and throwing it at him. "Dry off. Then..." he trailed off, his voice slurring. Reid hesitated, waiting for another order, and then The Man reached out towards the younger, took hold of his (thankfully unhurt) wrist, and jerked him forward until he staggered out onto the floor, struggling to keep his aching fingers clutched around the towel so it did not fall back into the water.

"Dry off!"

"Yes, sir!" Reid said, hurriedly obeying once he was released, flushing bright red under both of their gazes.

"Wyatt..."

"You shut the fuck up," Wyatt growled, jerking the towel away from Reid before he'd even finished in order to shove it in the face of his brother. "You got him clothes?"

"Not yet..."

"Jesus. You're useless!" He placed His hand on Reid's back, opened the door, and pushed him out, ignoring Reid's attempt to reach back and grab the splint on the counter, only knocking it down to the floor. Reid then yelped and covered himself, startled, staring wide-eyed as he found himself face to face with one of the girls who "worked" here and Richard. The girl simply averted her eyes to the clothes she was holding, but Richard smiled, looking the younger man over. "And you never thought about how much money he could bring in, Wyatt?"

Wyatt's hand flopped up in what might have been a wave, and then he scoffed. "Money w's never an issue."

"Of course," Richard replied. He scratched at his beard and continued eyeing Reid, and Reid backed away until he was touching The Man, hoping He would just grab his arm and pull him back into the living room, but instead He stepped away. "You want 'em? G'head. Don't care. He's a little shit."

"M-Master...?" Reid called out as He stumbled out of the hall, hoping for some reason that He would reconsider, but He didn't return. Reid moved his desperate eyes to Brown, then, and despite before the man did nothing to help him. Instead, he looked away and closed himself into the bathroom again.

Trembling, Reid turned to Richard, who was now holding the clothes, and the man smiled again...but surprisingly, it seemed almost genuine.

"Come on," Richard murmured quietly, gesturing towards the stairs. "Come on. I'll make you feel better."

_Like hell._ Reid ended up glancing over to the front door, and Richard laughed a bit. "All doors are locked from the inside with a key that only I have." He held his hand out, like Reid was supposed to take it. "Your Master would be angry if you tried, right? Save yourself from that...I promise it'll be okay."

Biting his lip, Reid otherwise relaxed, allowing himself to be herded upstairs, jumping so violently he almost fell back down when halfway up, Richard placed a cold, callused hand on Reid's still healing back. "Poor thing," he cooed, and Reid frowned. "You took a long time, didn't you?"

Reid didn't respond—he wasn't supposed to, anyway—and then once Richard had closed them inside one of the large bedrooms, he dropped to his knees, wanting nothing more than to get this over with so he could maybe sleep, maybe eat, maybe even both if he were good enough.

"What are you doing?" Richard asked calmly, tilting his head at him and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Reid looked up, confused, hoping for some sort of instructions to be given, but Richard simply patted the sheets next to him, as if...wanting him to sit? What, did he want to have a fucking conversation?

"Come here."

Reid obeyed, settling uncomfortably beside the man, and cringed when the other put a hand on the back of his neck and gently rubbed. "So tense...Wyatt isn't a patient man, is he? Doesn't...take his time? To make it better for you, I mean?"

Reid stared at him, in both disgust and puzzlement.

"You look confused. What does he do?"

Reid thought about his next words carefully. What if this man went and told Him his answer? Would it make Him angry? With a deep breath, he finally settled with, "He...He hurts me, sir."

"I see that. Have you learned by now? Some of those are fresh. How long has it been?"

"Two years, sir."

"Hmm. He was the first one to have you, wasn't he?"

"Y-ye-yes sir." Reid sniffled, wiping at his nose, and Richard frowned. "Why are you sad?"

_Why?_ What the fuck kind of question was that? He couldn't even pinpoint it all to one single reason—not even a hundred. He finally simply mumbled, "I'm hungry, sir," and hoped that it might have a good outcome.

"Oh, you poor thing," he said again, and Reid felt like his skin was crawling. "We'll get you something to eat in the morning, okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Absolutely..." Richard said, quietly, and then he leaned closer, kissing Reid's neck. Reid gasped in surprise and jerked away, and when Richard tried to gently pull him back by his hand Reid shrieked, falling off the bed onto the floor.

"Oh, shit," the older man exclaimed, eyes widening as he saw the other's swollen and bruised wrist, wincing as he realized that was the one he'd just touched. "Oh, shit." He knelt beside Reid and pet his hair before lifting him up and back onto the bed. "Ssh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were hurt."

"_Pleeease_," Reid whined, rubbing his forehead against the blankets and panting for the air he couldn't seem to get enough of. "Please, it _hurts!_ It hurts..." He sobbed for a long moment, and then Richard's hand left his hair as he stood up, leaving the younger alone. Reid composed himself after a moment enough that he could wearily look up and around, seeing the man in the bathroom across the room doing something over the sink. He glanced over at Reid and smiled softly. "It's okay. Hold on."

Reid curled into himself and shuddered, trying not to be sick, and then after another few minutes Richard sat down beside him again, taking his right arm and holding it up. "Sit up."

Slowly he obeyed, trying to stop crying in fear that it would bring him more pain, and then the man tied something tightly around his arm above his elbow, and Reid came totally back to himself in time to see Richard extraordinarily concentrated on getting the goddamn _syringe_ in his grip into Reid's arm.

"Uh-uh! _No!_" he shouted, snatching his arm back despite the pain the sudden movement caused and trying to untie the thin ribbon, scooting back and tossing it away. "No!"

"Come on," the man said pleasantly, still smiling, retrieving the band. "It'll only be a pinch."

"No!" Reid fervently shook his head. "No, sir. Don't want it, sir."

"But you're in pain, right? You want it to go away? You won't remember what pain is in a few seconds. Come on. Give me your arm."

"No!"

"_Give_ me your _arm_," the man said again, making it sound much less like a friendly suggestion and more like an order. "Come on." He held out his own arm and gestured for Reid to do the same, and Reid let out a cry of frustration. "Please, sir. I'm sorry. Doesn't hurt anymore. I'm okay, sir. Really. Can do what you want, right now, sir!"

"What I want you to do is give me your _fucking arm_." Richard took his arm again anyway, his grip much tighter, retying the ribbon and slapping the bend of his arm, which only sent more pain through his wrist.

"No, no, no, please. Please, I don't—I don't want it!" Reid tried once more to pull away, and so Richard manhandled him until he was laying flat on his back, pushing a knee and all of his weight into the other's stomach to keep him there, succeeding only in making Reid begin to cry again, flailing helplessly. "Please sir, please! Don't!"

"Ssh," Richard murmured, sounding happy again, and then he lifted the syringe up, flicked it, and then pressed it into Reid's skin, pulling the plunger back and then injecting the oddly colored, opaque liquid into him.

"No, sir, no, please..." Reid moaned uselessly, shaking his head, and Richard sat him up and leaned him over the trashcan he must have brought over with him from the bathroom.

"Ssh. Just breathe. Don't fight it. Hear me?"

"No...no, please...I...ugh...I don't..." Reid groaned in discomfort, choked, and then threw up, during which Richard started rubbing his back and murmuring things Reid couldn't make out. Then, at once, Reid was on his back again, staring up at the ceiling, and he felt...weird. A good weird, he decided after a moment, realizing he felt no pain from his wrist—or anywhere else for that matter. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out why everything looked different (and yet, at the same time, maybe no different at all) before Richard lay down on his side next to him, grinning. "Feel better?"

Reid giggled a bit for no reason, slowly nodding, and then he scratched at his arm and curled up with a content sigh.

"See? I told you. No more pain. Now..." Richard leaned over and kissed him for a moment, his hand creeping over the younger man's thigh.

"Show me how grateful you are, hmm?"


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you are all good, and enjoy! :) (There's so much that's about to start happening, I'm so so excited! If I had it all written, I'd be posting daily!)**

**Reviews are always welcomed, loved, and appreciated. :D**

_**xxx**_

_"Because we know he was simply a man, with weakness and frailties. Who yearned for the same things all of us do—to love and be loved."_

― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

**23.**

"...er...you...me? Hey...c'mon...JJ?"

Slowly, groggily, JJ opened her eyes, wincing as the artificial light above her burned them, having to wait a moment before she could fully succeed. Oh, god, her _head_...

"Hey!"

She squinted up until the blurry figure in front of her wavered into focus, and Emily touched her arm and smiled. "You had us scared to death," she said tearfully, and then JJ put a hand on her belly. "Please...please...tell me..."

"Your baby's fine, ssh. You hit your head, that's it. You were only out for an hour or so. They already did every test known to man, okay? She or he is just as healthy as ever."

JJ relaxed a bit, feeling faint, and then looked around the small hospital room, then down to the band around her wrist and gray clip around her finger leading to the heart monitor. She licked her dry lips and struggled to murmur, "And...M-Morgan?"

"Pissed, but okay. He went to get you coffee. Luckily a minor concussion is the worst of it for both of you, they said."

"What happened?"

"The breaks were tampered with. Totally severed."

"Oh God. Now I remember. It was the bastard that got away from us, wasn't it? Oh, where's _he__? _The other one?"

With a sigh, Emily replied, "He got the worst of it."

"He's...dead?"

"Well, no. He's in a medically induced coma, though. They don't think he'll wake up for a while...if he wakes up at all."

"Do you think someone was trying to kill him?"

"We don't know. It was a hit and run, so maybe. Garcia's looking through traffic cams for a license plate."

"We got what we needed from him, anyway. We don't have much time." She started sitting up, and then her face went pale and she wearily lay back down. "Ohh..."

"Relax for a minute, will you?"

"_Relax?_"

"When was the last time you slept more than a few hours? Or ate?"

"The last time Spencer wasn't in the hands of a psycho killer rapist."

Emily looked down and didn't try to stop her when she swung her feet over the side, taking off the clip and rubbing at her head. There was a bandage by her temple, and while it ached, she knew she could manage with it. She'd had far worse, anyway, and compared to what Spencer could be going through...it didn't matter how hurt she was. She could deal with it.

The door opened, and Morgan entered holding a tray, on which was an apple, and orange, and a covered bowl that might have been soup, along with a Styrofoam cup, smiling when he saw she was awake. He had a stitch or two by his hairline and a nasty bruise on his chin, but thankfully seemed otherwise unhurt. "Hey! Welcome back. How you feeling?"

"Fine. You?"

"I've seen worse." He placed the tray on her lap and held out the cup, which she took gratefully with a thanks.

"Come on, now. Eat up. At least some of it. You're not gonna be any good to anyone if you pass out."

JJ looked down at it, felt her stomach growl, and then nodded, taking a large bite out of the apple and closing her eyes. "So," she mumbled, "where are we on the info the suspect gave us?"

"We've sent out alerts to every airport in Tennessee. Every TSA agent's got pictures of all three suspects and Reid. If they're really dumb enough to try and get on a flight, we'll get 'em before they even know what's goin' on."

JJ swallowed hard, nearly choking, and Emily put a hand on her knee. "What?"

"If they find out, they'll hide out until we back off. They might even..."

"Hey now," Morgan shook his head, "don't say that. We're gonna find him, and he's gonna be _fine_."

"I want out of here, right now. I'm not sitting around." She stood, pocket the orange, and then straightened out her shirt as she exited the room and bumped directly into Hotchner. He let out a surprised _oof_ and backed up a step, frowning. "How are you feeling?"

"Fantastic. Where's Garcia?"

"The waiting room down the hall, I told her I was gonna check if you were—"

"I am," she said, and then set off down the hall while Emily and Morgan watched from the doorway.

Garcia, who was typing away on her laptop with a determined expression on her face, the end of her pen gently clenched between her teeth, didn't notice anyone approaching until JJ sat down next to her. "Oh, sweetness!" she smiled over at her, placing her hands on JJ's arm. "I'm so glad you're okay! You had us so worried!"

"Sorry," she said softly, managing a small smile in return, and then gestured at the computer. "Have you got a license plate yet?"

She sighed. "No. I did find the car, but there were no plates. I've tracked them six lights after so far, though, so that's good. There's a lot of traffic footage, you know? But I'm hopeful."

"I believe in you," she replied humorously, and Garcia chuckled. "Your trust is in the right place. Oh!" She clicked a few times, gesturing to a picture of a rundown motel—if it could even be called that. "Someone thought they saw Taylor's car here a few hours ago. First three numbers of the plates matched, so Rossi's down checking it out. Said he'd call if it led anywhere."

JJ nodded, putting the back of her hand to her mouth and mumbling through a mouthful of fruit, "Did you get anything from any of their cards yet?"

"You know I'd tell you if I did. I think they're at least smart enough not to do that. But none of them have been deactivated, so there's still a chance. Can't give up on that yet...it'd be the easiest way, and that never happens, but...we can still hope."

"Yeah." She stood up, threw the apple core into the garbage can beside her, and then walked off.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. And then I'm going to meet Rossi. Maybe talk to whoever saw the car. He can't do everything by himself."

"Okay. I'll let the others know."

"Good." She turned and left, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket. She closed herself into the restroom and then took it out, flipping it open to see she had a new message from an unknown number. One of the officers, most likely. She held it up to her ear absentmindedly, her finger over the button that would delete it, and then startled as she heard an unfamiliar male voice speaking in a thick Spanish accent that she could hardly understand.

_"Stop sticking your nose in business it does not belong in, agent. You're all in over your heads. If you do not stop, you will be hurt. Permanently. If you value your life and your friends' lives, you will go back home. This is your last warning."_

Trembling, JJ slid down the wall, dropping the phone to the tile and staring off blankly at it.

_"Press 1 to replay. Press 2 to delete. Press 3 to return to inbox..."_

**_xxx_**

There was a soft, cool breeze blowing across Spencer's face when he came back to himself. He stretched, rubbed at his eyes, and then opened them, staring at the room's window, startled by the fact it was _open_. Never had that been allowed before...what had he done to deserve such a reward? He could hear birds chirping somewhere close by, and he took a deep breath, wondering if maybe Richard would keep him around...maybe he could stay here. Maybe he wouldn't have to go back to The Man's violence. He liked this...he liked this a lot.

He brushed the hair out of his face and then frowned, running his fingers through it, something he had hardly ever been able to do in the last years. The Man hadn't cared much about the tidiness of his hair; all He ever did was yank at it, and if His fingers got tangled, that was more of a reason to cause Reid pain.

He reached up with both hands to be sure—yes, his hair had definitely been groomed, though he didn't remember doing it. Had he done it? If not him, then who? Richard? Surely he wouldn't have wasted his time on such a tedious (and no doubt strenuous) task. He felt his chin and found it had been shaved, held his hands out to see his nails had been trimmed, and then, now thoroughly confused, sat up, noticed he was _thankfully_ wearing clothes, and looked around. He was still in Richard's room, although it looked different in the dim, blue-tinted morning light...more inviting, more comfortable. More like, maybe, he wouldn't mind staying here.

He scratched at his arm and flinched when he felt the raised bump; he knew somewhere in him that obviously, that hadn't been a dream, but it was still devastating to have it confirmed. But of course, Richard had kept his promise of ending the pain in his wrist...it ached again, but nowhere near as badly as it had before—and he prayed it would stay that way.

There was vague rustling in the hallway, and then he heard a voice singing very, very quietly, almost too quietly for him to make out the words.

_"Arrorró mi niño...arrorró mi sol..."_

He tilted his head, and then laid down and closed his eyes again before the door opened, and the one singing entered, her heels clacking on the wooden floor slowly, almost in beat to her tune.

_"Arrorró pedazo, de mi corazón."_

Reid dared to blink, watching without a sound as a brown-haired girl sat down a basket and began folding and placing clothes into the drawers on the other side of the room, swaying as she hummed. He found himself smiling a little—she sounded _beautiful_, even if there was a bit of sadness somewhere in her tone. He hadn't heard anyone sing, or music at all for that matter, in ages...he never wanted her to stop.

But she did after a moment, glancing over her shoulder at him with a little smile. "My mama used to sing to me every night. It's beautiful, no?"

Reid nodded, and she turned towards him, gently putting her arms around herself with a quiet giggle. "It took an hour to do your hair. Very messy."

Reid felt his cheeks flush, and he shook his locks over his face.

"Do not worry. It is _much_ better now, yes?"

Reid nodded, smiling a bit, shyly looking at her.

"Are you okay?" She tapped the bend of her arm. "You feel sick sometimes after."

Slowly nodding, Reid couldn't help but stare at the old, faded marks on her own arm.

"Getting clean is not fun. Ick." She gave an exaggerated shudder. "Used to give to me when we went to the club. Too old now, though. They only want young or very pretty there. Ick."

The bathroom door opened, revealing Richard with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Are you done, Ana?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Then leave us be."

The girl nodded, grabbed the basket she'd brought with her, and then swiftly obeyed, her shoes clicking all the way down the stairs.

Richard sat down and pulled Reid into a kiss before smiling at him. "You look happy."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you still hungry?"

Reid own smile faltered—did this man think things like that just went away? Maybe he'd never even been hungry. He'd probably never gone half a day without eating, let alone two or three full ones. How long had it been this time? Nevertheless, Reid nodded, murmuring, "Yes, sir. _Please_."

"Okay. Go on downstairs. I'm sure Wyatt's waiting."

The smile fell away completely, and he hung his head. "Yes, sir," he said quietly, and then got to his feet and shuffled his way down to the living room.

"There you fucking are, whore," Wyatt growled, getting off the couch just to drag Reid back to it and sit him next to him. "Look, you're on television."

Reid looked up and choked when he saw his picture displayed on the muted screen, wincing when The Man grabbed his hair. "It looks much better like it is now, pet. It was too short before. Oh...hey, you brushed it?"

He shook his head, pointing to the kitchen. "She did, Master."

"Ah. Either w—what the fuck?" Wyatt pushed Reid back and grabbed his arm, pushing his thumb against the red spot over his vein, and Reid whimpered. "What the _fuck?_ What is that?" He slapped Reid across his mouth so hard he nearly fell off the couch when all he did was stare up at Wyatt, frightened. "Did Richard do that, boy?"

"Yes, sir..."

Wyatt threw his arm back against him, and Reid carefully tucked his wrist into his lap, his eyes stinging. "Hey! Jeremy! What the fuck did your friend give him?"

Jeremy peered in from the other room, a can of beer in his hand, and cleared his throat. "What?"

"What did your friend _give _him?"

The other snorted like he'd been told a joke. "Smack, probably. He's got, like, a lifetime supply of it somewhere up there. Why? You never did that before? Shit, you know how behaved that little slut would be if he was high all the time?"

"Hmm." Wyatt said, sounding thoughtful, and Reid shied away from his hand when it came down to rest on his head again, letting out a cut-off whine.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Go take a piss if that's it. You got two minutes. Jesus."

Risking a slap, Reid whispered, "D-Dan...iel...sir?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes and shoved him off the couch. "You go now or you don't go at all."

Reid hurried off to the bathroom, where his splint was still on the floor in the corner, and he sighed in relief as he slipped it back on. When he was done, he looked at himself at the mirror, wiping away a small bit of blood on his lip and feeling at his hair with a little fondness. He wondered if Daniel would notice...if he were okay, of course. Where the hell was he? Maybe with Jeremy in the other room...maybe eating...ugh, he was so _hungry_. His hand gripped at the counter as a particularly strong wave of weakness washed over him, and then he shakily staggered out, grabbing onto the wall of the entrance to the living room and looking in at The Man. He couldn't ask...he wasn't allowed to ask...but...

"M...Master?"

The Man rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "You're pissing me off, boy!"

Dizzy, Reid slid down to sit right where he was, his head lowered, and then he vaguely heard Richard's voice from behind him, though didn't comprehend what was said. Hands slipped themselves under his arms and lifted him up, leading him into the kitchen and sitting him at wooden table that he immediately leaned forward and rest his heavy head on.

"Hey, hey. Look. Eat."

He managed to raise himself up a little, seeing bread with a slice of cheese, a strip of bacon, an apple, and a glass of water, and he flung his hand out to grab the bread so fast he nearly knocked the glass over, bringing it to his mouth and scoffing it down.

"Easy there, you're gonna choke."

Reid glanced up and saw Ana smiling down at him, and when she put her hand out—just to touch his shoulder as it turned out—he almost aggressively shrugged her off and turned away, ducking his head lower so she couldn't take it from him.

"Whoa...it's okay. Slow down. No one's going to take it, okay?" She sounded a bit lighthearted, like maybe she was trying to make him smile or at least relax, but he knew it could always be taken away, _always, _at any time, and so he ignored her and did _not _slow down, not until he'd finished everything but the apple, finally pausing to catch his breath, realizing he was violently trembling, to the point where when he tried to take a drink the liquid leaked down his chin onto his shirt, and he had to pause a moment to compose himself, trying to be more careful.

"So...your name's Spencer?" Ana asked after a moment, from further away, dishes clinking softly, and he didn't look back at her. Instead, he continued to eat, wondering if he could get more when he was done...but of course, knew he probably would be forbidden.

"Hm. That's alright. Maybel doesn't really talk either—she probably greeted you. She's tiny, with freckles? She's fifteen, I think." She sighed, irritated, but said nothing more about it. "The other one that came with you, he was in here before. Daniel, yes? He told me."

He finally looked to her, blinking hard, and made a questioning sound.

"He's outside now, I think. He...clearing out something in the yard, I think is what I heard."

"Okay?"

She frowned a bit. "Yeah, he's okay. Why wouldn't he be?" Her expression fell after a moment. "Oh. No, my Master gave him nothing."

Reid nodded, taking another bite of the apple, and then jumped when he heard a door shut loudly, protectively hiding it under his shirt and watching the entrance carefully.

"It's okay. Was probably him."

Reid didn't hear much else besides _you're still allowed to finish,_ and so he hurriedly did so, wordlessly throwing away his garbage and then holding out his glass.

"You want more?" she asked, and when he nodded she filled up his glass and handed it back, smiling as he quickly drank it. "Feel better now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good." She paused. "Your friends really love you, don't they?"

Reid's breath caught in his throat, and he nearly dropped the glass.

"They were on the news, I mean...they are a lot. They miss you. You miss them bad, huh?"

Reid nodded, taking a large gulp of water and trying to swallow his tears with it, and she smiled. "You'll see them again," she said, and the hope in her voice was unmistakable, so much that he had to smile, no matter how little he believed that was true anymore.

"I heard them talk. Daniel's Master said that his friend does not want to get caught. They're going to wait more days, only a few, but you are not leaving so soon anymore."

Reid could have cheered, but he controlled himself and simply nodded, hoping this meant he could still have a chance at leaving.

Or...staying. Because if he had to be with anyone, he had decided Richard would be best, and certainly better than Him. And if he had more time, maybe he could make the man like him enough that he would take him away from the monster he'd spent what felt like a lifetime with.

"Pet!" The Man called, and Reid flinched, placing the glass on the counter beside Ana and then hurrying back into the living room. On the couch sat both Him and Richard, both smirking a little, and then his blood ran cold when he saw that around Richard's finger was the ribbon he'd used last night.

"Come here. Richard's got something for you. And since we've apparently got some more time...I wanna see this for myself."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hello! THANK YOU. Enjoy!**

**Reviews, as always, are lovely and appreciated! :D**

_**xxx**_

_"If there was any great lesson in life it was this: No battle was ever won with silence."  
_  
― Shannon L. Alder

**24.**

**JULY 13TH  
2 YEARS AGO  
****Woodbridge, Virginia**

"Mariana! What a surprise!"

Smiling, Mariana Duboir spread her arms out wide and tightly hugged the woman in front of her. "I know...I thought I'd stop by..."

"What are you doing down here? Is Wyatt with you? Oh gosh, sorry, come in, come in!"

Mariana followed the woman, Bethany, into her apartment and shut the door, placing her purse on the table and sighing, running her hands through her hair to adjust it after being out in the wind.

"How're things going with him, anyway?"

Without responding, Mariana went and sat on the couch, with a worried Bethany beside her. "What is it?"

"Oh, god. He's sick of me. It's awful. He doesn't want me anymore!"

"Oh, sweetie!" Bethany exclaimed, putting her hand on the other's shoulder, rubbing gently. "Is that why you're here? Did he kick you out?"

"Well he sure as hell didn't stop me from leaving! And he told me not to come back unless he had something to make him happy! _I_ don't make him happy? I'm not enough?"

"Oh, sweetie," she said again, clicking her tongue. "What did you do?"

"Everything, I guess. Everything wrong. But I...I think..."

Bethany took her hand. "What?"

"I don't think he ever liked. He likes the money we get...he likes me doing everything he wants me to...but...but we never have sex, and he's always so angry...god, so, so angry..."

"He's stayed with you this long. Why would it suddenly change?"

"It's always been rocky. I love him so much...I...I want it to work! I want to...but I think...I think he's a _homo_."

Bethany looked disgusted, but mostly startled. "_Really?_ He's been fine with you!"

"He was never fine with me! I beg him to stay, I do everything I can, I..." she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She didn't want to talk anymore. All she wanted to do was make everything better...but she didn't believe she could.

"You need to find something to make him want to stay!"

She snorted. "Anything less than having different _equipment_ is pretty much everything I've already tried."

Someone cleared their throat from across the room, and they looked up to see a middle-aged man with dark eyes and a smirk on his face watching them.

"Oh...Mariana, you remember my boyfriend..."

"Husband, now. Hey." He tilted his head towards her and nodded. "I remember you. And, if I may add to this conversation...and I think you need to find some_one_, not some_thing_."

"...What now?" Mariana asked. Bethany had gone uncomfortably silent, staring off at some spot on the floor.

He smiled innocently. "Find someone."

"I don't..."

"Okay. Hear me out. I know what I'm talking about, okay? It's all I ever deal with at work. I'm a professional, you could say."

"Your...your work," she repeated, numbly, because she didn't have any idea where this was going but knew it couldn't be good.

"Yeah. Kind of like...a black market, you know?"

"For drugs?"

"Well, of course. That too."

"I still—"

"For people, sweetie," Bethany murmured, quietly, and Mariana blinked very slowly. "For...people. People?"

Her husband cleared his throat again, although it wasn't quite impatiently. "Yes. So, like I said...find someone."

"What the—how the fuck am I supposed to do that? Stalk someone?"

Bethany giggled, then covered her mouth. "Just like Scott, huh?"

"Who?"

"Oh _yeah_. The ex you stalked to his new place? I remember that. It took you like, a day. I still don't know how! You've got computer skills. But please, use your power only for good."

Marian nodded, both of them laughing, and her husband walked over to the window. "Anyone you want. I'll help out a friend for a discounted price, hm? How's that sound?" Before Mariana could respond, the man groaned and cursed under his breath.

"Hon? What's wrong?"

"Shut up for a second." He moved the curtains back a little, staring out, and Mariana stood to find out what he was looking at, while Bethany stayed where she was, obedient.

Across the street, a large, black car pulled up on the grass of the neighbor's house. Two doors opened, and two well dressed, tall men came out of either side of the front. She tilted her head at them, and then watched as they both walked, in unison, up to the door.

Bethany's husband let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, as if having expected them to come towards this complex.

"What's up?" Bethany asked, and Mariana squinted at the two men. "They look like FBI or something. Right across the street."

"Aw," Bethany said softly, "I hope nothing's wrong. That's Mary's place. She's a sweet gal. Nice husband. Cute kid."

"Ah." Marian nodded, but in all honesty she'd stopped listening.

"Oh, no. Do _not_." Her husband warned, shaking his head. "Fuck that."

"What?"

"I saw you looking at them. I can see you fucking thinking right now. You know how risky that would be?"

"I didn't say anything..." She trailed off and tilted her head a little. The men were returning from the house, speaking an unheard conversation, and then her eyes locked onto the pale man, the younger-looking of the two.

"I do like that one," she said, pointing, and the man frowned. "You _like_ him?"

"Yeah. I've seen the kind of people he looks at in public."

"That is _not_ a good idea."

"I'd pay double."

"Are you fucking_ insane?_"

"Triple."

The man groaned loudly in exasperation and smacked his hand to his face. "No."

"Anything you want. Money isn't a problem."

"Jesus Christ..."

"What? You said you were a professional, didn't you?"

"Have you ever heard of low and high risk victims?"

"Come on. I'll do all the work. I'm good at that, like Bethany said. All you have to do is, you know...get him."

Her husband gave her a look that gave away his internal conflict, and then he moaned again and shook his head.

"Think of it like a challenge. You said you're the best..."

"Oh, _fuck_ me. Fine. I'll do what I can." He sighed. "Definitely him?"

"Yes." Mariana nodded, feeling better already. A small smile, one of satisfaction, twisted up her lips. "He's perfect."

**JULY 20TH  
****2 YEARS AGO  
****Quantico, Virginia**

"Yes. That's the place."

"Up there?"

"Yes. I gave you the right apartment number, don't worry. I'm positive."

"Alright. Have the car ready where we said."

"Already done."

"Good. Go wait there. You hear sirens, you haul ass back to Chicago and you don't stop."

"I'd rather go to jail."

Bethany's husband laughed. "So you think." Then he pulled his hat down low and jogged off towards the entrance while she sighed heavily and went to the car. There were no other cameras despite one overlooking the street from the side of the building, as she had already canvassed the area a hundred times, learning everything she could about it, and they would be sure to avoid it. This was ridiculous, of course. But was she going to turn back now? Of course not! How could she?

What seemed like only seconds later she heard vague clanging from the fire escape above her, and got out to see the man struggling down the ladder, the skinny agent tossed carelessly over his shoulder.

"Get the trunk, will you?"

"Not the back seat?"

"Ahah. No. Trust me. Pop it. And get the ropes...and the bandana! He should be out for a while, but you can't be too careful."

He dragged the man over to the trunk and then dumped him into it. He stepped back, wiping sweat off his chin, and then grabbed what Mariana handed over to him and restrained him tightly.

"Goddamn," he murmured when he was done, feeling up the other man. "He would get a damn good price with others, too. Damn good."

The agent's brow furrowed, and he whimpered, "H-Hotch..." so quietly they almost couldn't hear him, and then Bethany's husband took the syringe back out of his pocket, uncapped it, and injected him with the rest of the liquid he hadn't gotten in before. Immediately the younger man relaxed, and he shut the trunk with a sigh.

"Alright. Now get the hell outta here before someone notices. Won't be long, I'm sure. Not used to them putting up such a fight."

"Thanks." Mariana smiled, got into the car, and pulled off as the man disappeared around the corner into the darkness.

When she pulled back into the driveway, she was still smiling—it felt like she had never stopped for a second over the past twelve or so hours. And Wyatt was at work...it was perfect. This was coming together far, far better than she could have ever hoped. She parked right next to the door, and surprisingly had very little trouble getting the lanky man inside and down to the basement.

She clicked on the light and looked up at the chains that hung from the ceiling. She hadn't even really known they were down here until he threatened her with them when she had made a mistake...she assumed that he maybe had a thing for it, and that made what he would see when he came back all the better.

She dragged a chair over below them, sat the man down on it, and then untied him before, one at a time, locking his wrists tightly into the clamps. She then removed the chair, allowing him to hang limply, and he groaned loudly.

"Oh, I know..." she cooed, stroking his face, and he moaned again, mumbling incoherently, his eyelids fluttering.

"Ssh. No. No. Sleep. Everything's okay." She nodded in satisfaction when he went quiet again. "God, you're perfect. Look at you. You'll save me. Save us."

She paused thoughtfully. "You...you know what would make this even more lovely? We could be a family. A real family...I've always wanted a family. To have a family, I mean. But...well, I lost someone a while ago. I've...I've lost a lot of people. But..." She wiped away what might have been a tear from his cheek and then kissed it gently.

"I'm sure I can work something out. This is wonderful! Oh, I can't wait until he's home..."

**PRESENT DAY**

"Master?"

Jeremy glanced up from his cigarette and patted the step he was on outside Richard's front door, overlooking the large, empty yard. "Sit."

Daniel did so, smiling a bit when the man put an arm around him. "You do everything Richard asked?"

"Yes, sir. It looks very nice now."

"Good! Good. He's a good guy. Been friends with him for a long while. You know I got you through him, right? You remember?"

After a moment of thought, Daniel shook his head. "No, sir."

"Nah. You wouldn't, I guess. That was some time ago, huh? And you never used to look anywhere but the ground. Couldn't see those pretty little eyes."

Daniel cringed internally, and then nodded. "Master...?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Is Spencer okay?"

Jeremy took another long drag and slowly breathed out the smoke. "I thought I told you never to talk to or about him again, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Master...he just...he looks sick, and—" he cut off with a yelp of pain as Jeremy drove the end of the cigarette into the back of his hand, scrambling back. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Master!"

"Come back here. Look at me. Fuckin' look at me." Jeremy grabbed the younger man's chin and forced their gazes to meet. "If you ever fuckin' mention him again..." He slapped the wound he'd just created, and Daniel exclaimed. "This'll feel like a paper cut compared to what I'll do. You've seen that whore—you wanna look that way, too? Huh?"

"No, sir!"

"Then shut the fuck up. Maybe if you hadn't tried to fuck him, I'd be a little less angry."

"Yes, Master." Daniel sighed quietly when he was released, trembling a bit. "Sorry."

"Fuck." Jeremy looked at the cigarette in disappointment and then tossed it into the dirt and stood. "Get your ass back inside. Now."

"Yessir," the younger mumbled, obeying quickly, holding his hand close. He looked up and saw Brown coming down the stairs, and once they made eye-contact, Daniel quickly glanced towards the living room and the back at the man before his eyes went to the floor again, hoping he'd made a point as Jeremy pushed him towards the other room. Not like he expected anything to be done...but maybe the man could make sure Spencer was okay...or okay _enough_, anyway.

Brown frowned, putting his hands in his pockets, and then he slowly meandered his way to the living room, peering in to see Wyatt on the couch, eating and watching television, and then he tilted his head at the younger man slumped almost contently against his brother's side, contact he had never seen Reid look so...comfortable in. Maybe he was tired...or sick...or maybe Brown didn't know as much as he sometimes thought he did.

"Uh..." he began, coming around to face them. "Is he okay?"

Wyatt chuckled and leaned back, grabbing Reid's chin and lifting it towards Brown's direction, revealing the agent's flushed face, his gaze distant. "You feeling okay, pet?"

Reid smiled and nodded, then closed his eyes. "Yessir."

"Good boy." Wyatt released him and he slid back against the man, looking like he'd just passed out, and Brown gaped at his brother. "Is he fucking _high?"_

Wyatt brushed his hands together and cleared his throat, smirking up at the other. "Wasn't my idea, but it was a good one." He grabbed Reid's splint and shook it, and Reid only flinched before he was smiling again, humming out a sigh when Wyatt let him go.

"You see? I haven't heard him bitch or whine all day. He's just as obedient as he used to be. Maybe more."

Brown's eye twitched, and he gave a very strained smile. "Uh-huh."

Rolling his eyes, Wyatt glared at him. "Don't start. I'm in a good mood. Don't fuck it up. You'll regret it. Okay?"

"Okay." Brown agreed in a soft murmur, and then Wyatt stood up and exited, announcing unnecessarily that he was going to the bathroom. Brown hesitated a moment, then looked back to where Reid had now fallen onto his side, his legs tangled awkwardly underneath him, his arm hanging off the side. He looked downright..._pathetic_.

Checking to make sure he was alone, he situated Reid in a more comfortable position and then startled when he saw the younger man looking blearily up at him, scratching his neck so roughly that it left red lines. "Mm?"

"I'm...I'm...I can't...I want to..." Brown trailed off before _help_ could leave his lips. He didn't dare say that aloud.

Reid gave him a weird smile and giggled a few times. "Okay," he mumbled pleasantly, clearly unaware as to what he was even replying to, and then closed his eyes again and sighed.

Brown sat down heavily next to him, putting a hand on his ankle, and solemnly hung his head. "Okay."

"What are you doing?" Jeremy asked from somewhere behind him, and Brown shrugged. "Nothing," he said, emotionless, and then he stood back up and left the room, nearly bumping into his brother as he did so.

"Watch it."

"This isn't right. This isn't fucking right."

"Listen," Wyatt said, grabbing Brown's shirt and pulling him closer. "We're leaving as soon as we can, and that's final. That's just how it is. You're lucky you're not dead. I'm keeping you alive because you're my brother, but I need you to just keep your fucking mouth shut, okay? Can you fucking do that?"

Brown pursed his lips, silent, and then took a step back when he was released.

He swallowed hard. He clenched his teeth.

And then, when he was alone again, he quietly said,

"_No_."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: ****_Hello! Umm_****...well. Been a while, hasn't it? Sorry. I don't really have much of an excuse except I just lost the motivation. But I still really want to finish this...still a little ways to go, but hopefully it won't take so long! I can_not_ however promise I will be updating every week again. I hope you guys have been AMAZING, thank you SO much for all your support, my sincerest apologies for the long wait, and hope you enjoy!**

**Next chapter's gonna be _great_ oh my gosh...**

**Reviews, as always and forever, are loved and appreciated greatly!**

_**xxx**_

_"Courage isn't having the strength to go on - it is going on when you don't have strength."_

― Napoleon Bonaparte

**25.**

Garcia had to come looking for her, knocking on the door in concern after about five minutes—before JJ could get the courage to get out, or manage to swallow the fear threatening to engulf her entirely.

"JJ...?"

JJ sighed, picked herself up, and opened the door, meeting Garcia's eyes, and then handed her the cell, clicking repeat and gesturing for her to hold it to her ear. Garcia did so, confused, and then her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Oh, God."

"You can trace it, right?"

"Of course, my love." Garcia sped back to her laptop and plugged the phone in with one of her wires, clicking and typing for a minute before she spoke. "Okay. It was sent from a burner phone, but...oh. Well, that's creepy."

"What?"

"The call was made two hours ago..." She frowned. "From...outside this hospital."

JJ blinked a few times, processing the information, and then she turned on her heel and rushed off to find the others, who were in the hallway talking quietly to a nurse in front of the room the suspect they'd caught was in. Morgan was the only one really facing her, and so he saw her first, frowning and uncrossing his arms as she approached. "What's wrong?"

"One of them left a message on my phone. From outside. Here."

Hotch stared at her and then excused them from the nurse, who went back into the room. "When?"

"Garcia said two hours ago."

"Two hours?" Morgan echoed. "What did the message say?"

"That we're in over our heads."

"Great. How much you wanna bet it was the guy that got away?"

"A lot," JJ sighed, rubbing her face, and then Garcia hurried up to them and gestured over her shoulder. "There's still a signal coming from outside. I'm sure it's just the phone, but…"

JJ glanced at the others and then made her way outside, and with directions from Garcia and her program they managed to find the burner phone, which had been tossed in a trashcan. Taped to it was a crumpled up piece of paper, which Morgan, once he had on the gloves he'd borrowed from the hospital in order to pick the evidence up, unfolded and stared at for a moment before shaking his head. "Jesus."

"What?" Emily asked, and Morgan showed it to her. "Oh, lord."

"_What?_" JJ demanded, and Morgan set his jaw, turning it towards her. "It's the picture of Reid from the newspaper."

JJ scowled at it—the picture had a goddamn red X through it—and spat, "What is this? What are they doing?"

"Taunting us," Hotch replied, crossing his arms. "This isn't about Reid. He just got caught up in it. Get this and the cell to forensics to see if they can pull a print."

"Yes, sir, right away," Garcia said, and she pulled on a glove of her own and took it. JJ suddenly frowned and held her hand out to stop her, gesturing for her to show it to her again. She read the half of the article that was still there, frowned, and then read it again, finally looking up. "Why was Mariana DuBoir in Virginia in the first place? How did she even find him?" She paused and shook her head. "We need to go back to the crime scene. We're missing something."

"They've already been through everything a hundred times, sweetie," Garcia murmured softly, and JJ nodded. "I know. I just...please." She turned to Hotch. "Please. I need to."

Hotchner hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Morgan, you go with her. Take the jet. We're going to go down to Tennessee and talk to the police, see if Garcia can go through some traffic cams, maybe find something. Be back by morning."

Morgan nodded, nudging JJ's shoulder. "Alright, let's do it."

_**xxx**_

By the time Richard came home, Reid was on the verge of dropping to his knees and begging to get more of whatever they'd been giving him, _anything_ to take the pain he was in away for just a short while, and Richard not only seemed to notice this, but was _amused_ by it. He came over to where Reid was sitting on the couch, alone, and sat next to him, gently petting the younger's hair. "How are you feeling, hm?

"I-I—sir, I…" Reid trailed off and whined quietly, scratching his arm and leaning against the man, nuzzling him, and Richard smirked, cupping Reid's chin and tilting his head up. "I know what you want…do you want it bad enough you'd do something for me?"

Reid obviously didn't like the sound of that, but he nodded in agreement anyway. "Yes. Yes, sir."

"Good… I talked to Wyatt, you're going to come with me tonight."

"Yes, sir." Reid said, starting to get impatient, itching his cheek and holding his arm out, and Richard chuckled. "Okay, alright. In a minute. Come on, let's go." He grasped Reid's hand and pulled him to his feet, leading him outside and to his car, opening the passenger side door for him and gesturing him in. Reid hesitated only a second before sitting down, watching Richard as he closed the door and then walked around to get in on the other side. He started the engine and then took Reid's arm and placed it flat on the center console, taking a little box out of the glove compartment and rummaging through it, eventually getting what he needed out of it, tying Reid's arm off, and giving him what must have been only half of what he ever had before. "You'll get more when we're done."

Reid hummed pleasantly and leaned back, smiling a little and nodding, and Richard patted his head and then replaced the box, driving off. Reid closed his eyes, zoning out for a while, and then came back to himself when the back door opened, and someone got in. He didn't really care enough to look, but he heard Richard greet the other, and then the man grasped Reid's chin and pulled him to look at the person in the backseat. "That is Dez," Richard said, and Reid blinked and mumbled incoherently, and Dez gave him a once-over before rolling his eyes and turning away, and Reid leaned back against the window as Richard drove off.

The man didn't talk for a while, giving Reid time to doze off again, and then finally murmured, "I think she would make almost as much money as you, hm?"

Reid blinked hard, turning his head towards the man, otherwise remaining still. "Huh?"

"Her." Richard reached out and took Reid's chin again, pointing his gaze out the window, where a young girl was sitting at the bus stop they were stopped at a red light next to, drinking coffee and slowly bobbing her head along to what she was listening to.

"No one usually wants anyone over graduation age. But there're exceptions. The ones who look younger than they are, the ones who are worth it." He felt Reid up suddenly and the younger man exclaimed in surprise, shying away while Richard chuckled and then put his hands back on the wheel as the light turned.

"It's always better this time of day, isn't it?" Richard asked, glancing back at Dez in the mirror, as if he were trying to initiate a conversation. Dez hummed, sounding very preoccupied, and Reid made a sound of confusion.

"To pick. A lot of the kids we get want drugs...a lot of them we've given some to before. Trust's a real necessity."

Reid put a hand on his head and rubbed, trying to think through the fog.

"You didn't say he'd be drugged to hell." Dez said, irritated, and Richard rolled his eyes. "He'll do _fine_."

Reid stared at him, and fear overwhelmed him so abruptly he forgot how to breathe. "S-sir?"

Richard gave the younger man a look and then murmured, "You're going to pick who Dez'll bring home tonight, because I _want_ you to. And I think you'll do fine."

Sitting up suddenly, Reid pressed himself against the door like he was trying to get as far away from the man as possible.

"Don't look at me like that. You already sold me your time, and you're doing this. It's not an option."

"Sir…"

"Not…an…option," Richard reiterated, seriously, and Reid silenced himself, trembling.

"I've been working on a few," Dez said quietly, "A blonde girl, about fifteen. Runaway. A sixteen year old boy…just a druggie…and a fourteen year old girl who hangs out with a group of older kids. She's the only one we want out of them, though. They're too old."

Reid felt like he was going to be sick, and he looked back out the window as rain began to fall.

"Pull in here," Dez said after a moment, and Richard turned into an alley, stopping about halfway through to the other side. "The blonde and boy meet me here around the same time…few minutes from now. They come together a lot. The other girl might not show. But you can pick from the two. I don't care which. I've got people lined up for both types."

"Sir, I think…" Reid put a hand over his mouth, and Richard smacked his shoulder. "Really?" He sounded extremely annoyed, but he opened the door and gestured Reid out. "If you run, I'm gonna fucking run you over."

Reid scrambled out of the car and fell to his knees a few feet away, weakly heaving, his fingers scraping at the damp concrete under him. He sobbed loudly and fell back to sit, wiping his lips, and then stayed there in a daze until he finally heard Richard ordering him back into the car.

"Jesus," Dez rolled his eyes as Reid shut himself back in, groaning.

"Relax. He's only had it a few times." He touched Reid's leg and smiled gently. "But he can have more if he does good here. He can have all he wants. You'd like that, right?"

Reid glanced at him, trying to hide his interest, and then shook his head a bit, pulled his sleeves over his hands, and crossed his arms tightly.

"Yeah. You'd like that." Richard said knowingly, and Reid huffed out a breath, turning his attention out the window again.

"Here they come. Hey," Dez reached out and touched Reid's shoulder, and he flinched violently and whipped around. "Make a choice. Can't wait too long."

Breathing harshly, Reid stared at the two teenagers as they approached, hands shoved in their pockets, hoods up. Dez opened the door halfway and nodded at them, and Richard rubbed Reid's knee. "Decide," he said, and when Reid gave him a desperate look, he gestured with his head. "Come on. Before they leave. He'll call back the one you choose."

"Please, sir…please…"

"I like the girl, too," Richard commented, like Reid had said something about her, and Dez cleared his throat in acknowledgment.

"Hey, sweetie?" Dez called after they had begun to leave, and she turned back while the boy jogged off and went around the corner. "Yeah?"

"I think you miscounted, there's not enough here."

"What?"

"Come here, count it again."

Reid turned himself and watched her, and through the raindrops collecting on the window, it almost appeared as if she was crying. And though she wasn't now…she would be soon.

_"Stop crying, pet. It's been weeks. I know I hurt you, but if you'd just behave..."_

_"I wanna go home!"_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"I wanna go home, sir!"_

_"Don't worry, pet. You won't say that anymore soon."_

"I...I want to go home."

Richard frowned, looking at the younger man. Through the sound of the traffic behind them, the distant thunder, and how quietly it had been said, he hadn't properly heard. "What was that?"

Reid hesitated—he hardly was managing to keep his eyes open, did he really want to deal with what this would get him?—and then licked his lips, jerked the car door open, and shouted, "_Run!_" as loud as he could, startling the girl so much she backed up a few steps and, when Dez stood up, dropped the money and fled back onto the street, and Reid grinned madly and _laughed._

"You little _shit!_" Richard exclaimed, dragging Reid back into the car, slamming the door, and then punching the younger man so hard he never made a sound, slumping forward against the dashboard, his hand still on the door handle. Richard pried it off, leaning him back and against the window, grumbling to himself, and then took a deep breath as Dez got back in, shutting the door so forcefully it shook the entire vehicle.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" he shouted, lunging out at Reid, and Richard smacked him back. "_Relax_. There'll be others."

"I've been working on her for three fucking weeks!"

"Yeah, and I apologize. I pay for the trouble."

"I want his fucking head!"

"Not gonna happen," Richard replied smoothly, "but you can take him for a while...no charge."

"Oh, that'll make everything better! That'll get my girl back!"

"We'll find another. Right now, if you want."

"Whatever."

"You'd like that?"

"I'm not a fuckin' kid, stop fuckin' talking to me like that!"

"Stop fuckin' _acting_ like one, then!"

Dez clenched his teeth, crossed his arms, and sat back. "Yeah. I'd fuckin' like that. _And_ I'll take him."

"Better now than after his master gets ahold of him. It's never pretty after that. _He's_ never pretty after that."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so glad everyone is still reading and enjoying this! Sorry again for the wait! Please enjoy! :D Exciting things might be coming next chapter...**

**_WARNINGS:_ Mentions of and attempted rape, and murder. But it's a good kind of murder... Just wait.**

_**xxx**_

_"Never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."_

— Harriet Beecher Stowe

**26.**

Reid was staring blankly down at his lap when he regained his senses, blinking several times and then raising his hand to rub his jaw, letting out a pained gasp. He looked up, wincing in case he was hit again, but he was alone in the car. He straightened himself up, unbuckled his seat belt, and stayed there, trying to determine where they had stopped. Outside was a line of houses, any of which he probably could have gotten to, and yet he didn't dare even try. He was already in enough trouble…and all he was going to do was get caught again. He already couldn't deal with The Man's anger, he didn't need Him having even _more_ reasons to hurt him.

His side of the door jerked open, making him flinch away, and Richard smirked down at him. "Good! You're up. Get out. If you don't fuck this up, I might not tell your master what you did. I might even give you a little something when we get home. Come on, get out."

Dazed, Reid slowly, hesitantly obeyed, and Richard tightly grasped his arm and led him up to one of the houses, pushing him inside.

"I'm gonna run an errand," Richard said, smoothing back his hair, and Dez peered out from the kitchen with a glass of wine in his hand.

"I'll be back in an hour or two. Please, for God's sake, leave his fucking face alone. And use a condom. And don't let him out of your sight. And don't break anything else, his wrist's already fucked. And _don't_ kill him. Okay?"

"Absolutely," Dez murmured, leaning casually against the wall, smiling at Reid. "We'll have a _grand_ ol' time, won't we, baby boy?"

Reid backed up, turning to Richard, hoping the man would change his mind, but instead had the door slammed in his face. He jumped back, startled, and then whirled around and pressed himself against the glass in fear. Dez had a terrifyingly hungry look in his eyes, and Reid couldn't help but whimper.

"Come on now. Step away from the door, darling. We all know how that would end."

Staying where he was, Reid suddenly couldn't catch his breath, and he flinched when Dez took a few steps forward, sipping nonchalantly from his glass. "You heard him. I can't kill you. And so I won't." And then, in what seemed like one single stride, he was beside Reid, grabbing him by his throat, shoving him back against the door, so hard Reid's vision went white for a second. "But oh, I'm going to make you fucking _wish_ I would kill you. And I'm gonna fucking enjoy every second of it."

"Please—"

"Say another word without permission and I'll break a finger. I don't give a fuck. Understand?"

"Y-yes s-sir."

"You're gonna call me Master until you leave."

"Yes, M-Master."

Dez smiled, kissed him, and then threw him to the floor, taking another drink from the glass he'd never set down.

"Don't worry. This is gonna be _fun_, I promise."

_**xxx**_

In all honesty, JJ hadn't _really_ thought that they would find anything new at Reid's apartment. Over the last years, she'd been there a million times—they all had—and nothing they hadn't already found ever showed up. When it had been said that the abduction had been pulled off by a _professional_, they damn well _meant_ it, in every sense of the word.

They'd roamed around the apartment for the better part of an hour before finally JJ had the idea of looking _elsewhere_, of retracing Reid's steps on the case they had worked before he had been taken. They went back to the houses he and Morgan had gone to, to everywhere they could think of, but, after the fourth house, the fourth dead-end, they'd simply leaned against the van outside, silent.

"What else is there?" Morgan asked quietly after a long while, and JJ, sounding more dejected than she ever had before, quietly replied, "There's nothing."

Morgan took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, shaking his head. He leaned his head back, frowned, and then nudged JJ's arm. "Hey, look up there. Second floor window."

JJ turned around and followed his gaze, squinting despite her sunglasses, and saw that, staring them directly in the face from that said window, was a middle-aged woman, dark hair trailing down over her shoulders, her hands pressed flat against the glass...like she wanted their attention, almost.

"Do you think...?" JJ asked, and Morgan pursed his lips. "It's been years. It might not even be the same owner."

And then the woman raised one hand back from the glass, pointing at them with one finger, still standing unnervingly still.

"Is it desperate if we call this a lead?" Morgan asked, and JJ shrugged. "We _are_ desperate." she said, and Morgan put a hand in his pocket and nodded, following her into the building, to the last door on the second floor.

"Hello?" Morgan called quietly, knocking gently, and then the locks unlocked, the door jerked open, and a hand waved them inside. "Quick!"

The two startled agents did so, Morgan with a hand at his holster, and the woman quickly shut the door behind them again, pressing her forehead against the wood with a long, shaky sigh.

"Ma'am?"

"I need protection, I need you to promise me protection, or you need to get back in your car and never come back."

Exchanging a glance with Morgan, JJ cleared her throat. "Do you know _anything_ about why we're—"

"I need _protection!_"

"From who?"

"I...I need..." the woman breathed, seeming just seconds away from breaking down completely, and JJ held her hand out. "Okay. Yes. We can promise you protection, okay?"

The woman glanced back at her, looked back to the door, hesitated a long while, and then finally turned towards them, her eyes dark and miserable. She went to close the curtains, and then sat on the couch, bringing her knees up. "I...I remember him."

"...Who?"

"Him. The agent. The doctor." She looked up at Morgan, and it was only then that either of them noticed the bruise by her hairline. It looked to be several days old, "And you. Outside. Two years ago." She pressed her fingers to her mouth and closed her eyes, causing a tear to roll down each of her cheeks. "I know who took him."

JJ came over and sat on the table in front of her, solemn. "We know, too. Mariana Duboir. Are you her friend?"

"No...I mean, yes, I'm her—I was her friend. But no...not her...well, she—"

"Do you know where he is?" JJ demanded, and the woman flinched. "No...but...my husband might."

"You husband?"

"He took him. For Mariana. Because she—she wanted to—she was having problems at home, and—"

"He took him?" Morgan repeated, confused; of course, they'd only been going on what Reid had thought he'd seen... "Where is your husband, ma'am?"

"Away. Until the end of the week. He goes away a lot. But...he might know."

"And he would tell you?"

"Can't you trace a call?"

"What are your names?"

"Bethany Marx. Hernandez Marx. I..."

JJ stood up and took her cell phone out—while she wouldn't admit it, she currently couldn't have possibly cared less about anything else this woman had to say—and dialed Garcia, putting it on speaker.

"Yes, my love? Tell me you two found something, hm?"

"Maybe. Run the name Hernandez Marx, will you?"

"Alright, one second." Vague keyboard clicking could be heard, along with the familiar sound of Garcia biting on one of her pens. "Ah! Okay, says here he...didn't have any problems as a kid, didn't have any problems—ooh, until he was twenty-eight and arrested and jailed for five years for soliciting prostitution and attempted kidnapping of a minor. That was sixteen years ago, and he hasn't been on the radar since...although it's been suspected he was apart of several abductions since, along with drug trafficking, but it couldn't be proven.

"Last address?"

Garcia grunted. "It's—where you're calling from. That's it, darlings, nothing more."

"Alright...you can trace from another phone, can't you?"

"Oh, sweetness, you know I can do anything! Just give me a number!"

**_xxx_**

The dial tone rang six times before it was finally answered, a gruff voice spitting out, "What? I told you not to call me!"

Bethany grit her teeth and looked up at the two agents standing next to her, and sighed as Morgan mouthed the word _relax. _

"I...I know..."

"Then why are you? I don't have time for you."

"The FBI is in the neighborhood."

_Absolute silence._

"I think they're trying to find out...who it was..."

"Of fucking course they are. But two years later? They still remember they were even fuckin' there?"

"You know he was found and then taken again..."

"_Yes_. My little fucking _headache_. Such a wonderful kid."

"Do you have him there?" she asked, and Morgan widened his eyes, his mouth open to tell her _no, _only the damage had already been done.

"Why the hell are you askin' me that? Why do you need to know?" A pause. "Are you fucking wired? Bitch, I'm gonna slit your fucking throat!"

Bethany sobbed loudly. "No! I'm not!"

"You slut. I'm—ugh!" Marx hung up, and Bethany dropped the phone, burying her face in her hands, trembling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Garcia, did you get it?" JJ asked while Morgan placed her hand on Bethany's shoulder again, shushing her gently and reminding her they would help her.

"One minute!" Garcia called, still on speaker, and then let out an excited squeal. "Got it! Sending it to your phones!"

"Tennessee?"

"Oh, definitely. We might actually have him this time."

"Good. I'm done chasing lies."

_**xxx**_

Reid was already at wit's end before an hour had even passed, curled up on the edge of Dez's bed, whimpering and cold and wet and shaking so violently it felt like he was falling apart. The man had gotten a phone call, the words of which Reid couldn't hear from the other room, and then spent fifty-three minutes angrily trying to _drown_ him—but never quite letting it go that far—in an attempt to punish him for scaring away the girl in a way that wouldn't be physically seen when Richard came back (along with probably getting out his anger for whatever reason), and Reid would have preferred anything else—would have preferred to _die_ rather than _nearly_ do so what felt like a hundred times over (though he'd actually counted 43). He'd thought no one could be as cruel as The Man, and he had thought _wrong._

"And how are we feeling, hmm?" Dez asked, closing the bedroom door as he returned with a glass of water, which he pushed against Reid's lips and forced him to drink completely despite him never wanting to have anything to do with the retched stuff again. "Feeling better? I sure am."

Reid choked and then cried out, pushing the glass away, and Dez set it down on the table. "Are you sorry yet? Huh? Answer or I'll take you back in there."

He was going to throw up—he couldn't fucking _breathe_— "God, yes, I'm so sorry, Master! Please, I'm so sorry! Please!"

"Good boy." Dez smiled, and through bleary vision Reid saw him start unbuttoning his shirt. "Now this? This is gonna feel much nicer than anything else." He put his hands on the younger man, and Reid flailed his arms before they were pinned to his side.

"Master—please—I don't wanna..."

"I didn't wanna lose my girl, either!"

"Wasn't yours!"

"Excuse me?" Dez grabbed Reid by his throat. "Have you forgotten your place? Maybe the junk's been fucking with your memory, but you're nothing but a little slut! You're property! You're owned! No one loves you, and no one loves that girl or any of the other ones we grab. You wanna go back to the tub?"

"No! No. Please...Master, I can't...I can't..."

"Then stay still!" Dez shouted, slapping him, and then took off the other's clothes, and Reid closed his eyes and tried to quiet his sobs. It'd be over soon...Richard would come back...he would take him away from here...he would give him what he needed to forget...he just wanted to _forget_...

"You were the worst mistake I ever fucking made," Dez muttered, and Reid's eyes opened wide again, staring at the man as he shook his head. "Thought you would be damn good, too."

_"He would get a damn good price with the others, too...damn good..."_

Reid exclaimed—oh, God...it had been _him_ who did this, _this man_ who was responsible for Reid going through all the hell he had, he could remember now—he could remember being so completely exhausted, unable to even open his eyes, and someone—_this man_—speaking those words and putting his _disgusting_ hands on him before sending him back into darkness... Oh,_ God._.. No, no, _no_—

He clenched his teeth, angrily, and then, as Dez tried to kiss him, he writhed violently and bit the man's lip, _hard_, before he could stop himself, tasting blood before he heard the shriek, and he flung himself onto the floor and covered his head when the man began striking him.

"You little fucker! You little piece of shit! Oh, my god, I'm gonna—" He grabbed Reid before the younger man could do anything and lifted his struggling body up, forcing him back onto the bed. "I'm gonna tear you apart, slut!"

"No! No! It was you! You did this!" Reid sobbed, fighting desperately, and the man started to laugh, leaning down and biting Reid's cheek in retaliation before spitting a mouthful of blood in the other's face. "Oh, baby, you remember me now, do you? Hm?"

"_You did this!_" Reid cried again, hysterical, and Dez roughly pressed his arm into Reid's neck, cutting off his breath. "Yeah," he chuckled, "I did. And you know what I'm gonna do now? I'm gonna—"

Reid didn't let the man finish, kicking up with all the energy he had, which was _surprisingly_ more than he had thought it would be—or maybe Dez had just been distracted. It didn't matter; Dez toppled over to the floor, and Reid gasped for air and fled out of the room, looking desperately for anywhere to hide. He ended up going around past the kitchen, which led him to another small closet-like room, and he ducked into it, quietly shutting the door. He felt for a lock on the other side, clicked it, and then inched back, feeling in the pitch dark for a wall—and falling back against several lumps. He took a second to catch his breath—as much as he could, anyway—and then blinked, touching the things and finding they were duffel bags. His eyes adjusted, and while the only light came from the inch high crack under the door, he could see enough to grab the zipper, hoping to find a weapon inside.

"Where are you, little boy?" Dez shouted, still sounding fairly far away. "Are you having _fun?_"

Reid squinted at the contents of the bag and then gasped, bringing out one of the plastic bags filled with white powder to stare at. He unzipped the other three bags, finding nothing but the same. Where the fuck had Dez gotten all of this? There was no way that he had paid for it—not with the shoddy place he had here. So...stolen, then? Of course. This was worth more money than Reid could ever dream of...Oh god, and he'd seen it...he knew about it...he was _definitely_ going to die now...

The doorknob jiggled, and Reid clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle his cry of fear while Dez laughed humorlessly. "Oh, baby boy, you _really_ shouldn't have gone in there."

Reid was quiet, hoping that maybe Dez would think he made a mistake, but lost all hope when the man began banging on the door, trying to get himself inside, and Reid realized his mistake too late—he was trapped, and this time there was nowhere to run.

"Unlock the door, you little bastard! Now! Fucking_ unlock the door!_"

Reid slid to the ground, his fists clenched, but knew he could not take the man on. He would lose in an instant. He was exhausted, and hungry, and it still felt like there was water in his aching lungs, and he was just..._done._ He didn't know if he cared enough to even try...it was useless, and it always had been. He should have just laid down and shut his stupid mouth...

"Don't make me break it down! I'll fucking bury you alive and no one will ever fucking find you!"

"Master, I'm sorry!" Reid tried, hugging himself tightly, trembling, gently rocking back and forth. "Master...Master, I'm so sorry..."

"It's too fucking late for that! Open the—"

There was a loud thud that sounded like another door slamming, and then Richard's voice, which sounded like an _angel's_, shouted out a muffled, "What the hell is going on? I can hear you outside!"

"Little fucker locked himself away—fucking bit me and ran the second you left!"

"He's been in there the whole time? Jesus." He loudly knocked. "Boy! Open the door!"

The door did open then, and Reid, in a last ditch effort to survive, tossed one of the bags out before trying to shut it again, which of course did not work. Dez grabbed him, yanking him out by his hair, and slammed his head against the wall, letting him crumple onto the tile.

"Don't touch that," Dez said as Richard nudged the bag with his foot, but Reid had left it open, and with a scoff of shock and disgust, Richard squatted down and peeled back the covering. "Are you shitting me?"

"What? So I've got a little side money."

"More..."

Richard turned his attention to Reid, who was curled into a protective ball, holding his head, barely conscious. "What?"

"_Ugh._" Reid weakly kicked his foot back and hit the door frame, and Richard stood up, glaring at Dez before entering the room and turning the light on. "Oh, shit."

"It's not what you think, Rich," Dez said, nervously, and then Richard whirled around, pulled out a handgun, and shot the other man in the thigh.

Reid shrieked as Dez practically fell on top of him, crawling away, and Dez yelled out in pain, clutching his leg. "Fuck!"

"Do you know how much money you cost them? Cost us? Cost _me?"_

"Hold on, wait—that isn't—"

Richard raised the gun and shot the man's other leg, so smoothly it was like he was brushing paint onto a canvas. "Don't lie to me. You know I have to kill you now, right? Boss's orders. Damn, he's gonna be so happy—"

"Wait, wait! No! Take it! Just take it back! It was an accident, I swear, I just—I made a mistake. Look, just take him and it and leave!"

"Boy?"

Reid groaned in response. "Y...y...sir?"

"Get up. We're leaving."

"Hurts so much..."

"What now?" Richard stepped over Dez and went over to the younger man, kneeling beside him and pushing him onto his back. "Jesus Christ. Did you fucking bite him?"

"No!"

"What'd he do, boy?"

"Hurt me bad, sir." He uncovered where he'd been holding, inspecting his fingers, and Richard scowled at the fresh gash on his forehead, no doubt from how hard he'd been shoved into the wall.

Dez panted raggedly for a moment. "I didn't—"

"Shut the fuck up," Richard growled, and then he turned around and shot the man a final time, grabbing Reid's uninjured wrist and hauling him to his feet. "Where are your clothes? Get them."

Reid staggered into the other room, practically choking on his tears, and Richard grabbed the bags and threw them over his shoulder, grunting from the weight—the _millions of dollars_ worth of weight.

"Come _on!_" Richard called, and then stared at the other as he stumbled dazedly out, holding his dripping wet clothes. "Why the fuck are they wet?"

Reid let out a sob, swaying like he was about to collapse, and Richard immediately dropped the bags and caught the younger man before he could fall. "Why are they wet?" he asked, quieter, and when Reid still couldn't form a coherent answer, Richard shook his head, leading Reid over to the door and grabbing the blanket on the back of the couch, draping it over Reid's shoulders. Reid held it tightly around himself, leaning heavily against the man as he led them outside and to the car. Reid quickly got into the passenger seat, letting the wet garments fall to the floor, tucking his knees up to his chest and shivering violently as Richard went back, stuffed the bags into the trunk, and then got in. He sat there for a moment, listening to Reid trying to stifle his cries in the silence, and then started the car. "I told him not to hurt you that much."

Wiping blood out of his eyes, Reid huddled against the door, pulling the blanket over his face and lowering his head down to his knees, wanting nothing more than to disappear as they drove off.

He'd fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he remembered was being lifted up, the blanket still wrapped around him, and carried back inside the house, back to Richard's room, where the man gave him a bit to use the bathroom, picked him up again after, and then laid him _gently_ down on his bed—the most careful anyone had been with him in two years. Reid tried not to let go of the man, desperate for comfort, but Richard easily removed Reid's arms from around his neck, tucking one under the blanket and holding the other firmly in his grip, wrapping the familiar ribbon tightly around it.

"I told him not to hurt you that much," Richard said again, very, very softly, and Reid winced when the needle pierced his skin and then smiled a bit. "Th'nk y' sir..."

"Don't." Richard watched him fall asleep within seconds, stood, lit a cigarette, and then sighed, closing the door on his way out.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Hi guys! One last update this year. Hope your holiday season was great, whatever you celebrate! And here's to an absolutely wonderful 2016 for everyone!**

**Reviews, as always, are lovely and appreciated!**

_**xxx**_

_"Are you manipulating me again?"  
"Try not to fall for it. I dare you." _

— Steve Kluger, My Most Excellent Year

**27.**

In the time it had taken him to walk around Richard's property twice, Garrett Brown had decided he absolutely could not do this. "This"...what even was _"this"_? He didn't have a plan...not _really_, anyway. He'd been thinking about it...thinking about a lot of things. About Wyatt, the girls who 'worked' here, and Reid...mostly about Reid. That stupid kid...he was breaking Brown's damn heart. And Brown had done some damn shady things in his life...he hadn't even known he really truly still _had _a heart.

But he hadn't slept in _days_, and ever since seeing Reid earlier this morning...the poor kid, sitting there, drugged out of his mind, completely helpless...Brown was honestly beginning to prefer death over what he was feeling. Guilt...so much guilt. The worst guilt he'd ever felt, even more than over what he'd let happen to Wyatt. That had been terrible, yes. Brown was a horrible, awful person, who definitely should have never been born. But now...now he was sitting here, just watching the same thing happen to others...how sick could someone get? He needed to help. He didn't care anymore. He just didn't. He probably wasn't thinking clearly, weak from exhaustion, but he couldn't do this anymore. He didn't want to. And he wasn't going to.

Or at least, that's what he had told himself, and believed, right up until he'd gone back inside and grabbed the phone with every intention of calling the police―and noticed he was in plain view of Jeremy, who had his eyebrow cocked and was leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, casually, like he'd been waiting for him. Brown yelped in surprise, dropping the phone, and then glared at Jeremy, picking it back up and trying to seem relaxed. "What the hell do you want? Why are you stalking me?"

"I'm not." Jeremy replied calmly, and then didn't say anything else, so again Brown demanded, "What do you want?"

"Who're you callin'?"

Brown sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "No one. I was looking if there were any missed calls."

"Expecting a call?"

"Why do you fucking care?" Brown snapped, and Jeremy tilted his head a little, sipping his drink, and then shrugged. "I don't."

"It sure seems like you do."

Jeremy shrugged again, and Brown cleared his throat, shaking his head and starting to go past him, only Jeremy suddenly stood up straighter, making Brown stop and jerk back. "You do remember what I said, don't you?"

"I..."

Jeremy grabbed Brown's shirt, almost gently. "That I'd end your pathetic little life if you tried to stab us in the back?"

"I'm not. Let go. Don't you think I'd have done it already? Get off me."

"Good." Jeremy said, pushing Brown back and then turning around, going into the living room and sitting on the couch, still watching Brown. Brown made a face and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets and storming off to his room. He paused, however, as he passed Richard's room, biting his lip. He cast a glance downstairs, then pushed the already cracked open door, stepping inside, quickly taking a look around. He just needed a phone...that would be the easiest thing...but then, of course, he would have to be sure they didn't know, that they didn't hurt Reid before they got here...

He jumped when he heard a car door slam outside, rushing back to his own room and closing the door, breathing hard. He sat on his bed, burying his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath, trying to summon up the courage he would need if he did find a phone. Just...three numbers. That was it. Three numbers, dial, and _done_.

So _why_ did that seem like the hardest thing he could ever possibly have to do?

_**xxx**_

Reid came to in a dazed panic, blinking hard and then pushing himself as close as he could to the headboard of the bed he was in, curling up on the pillows. He couldn't do this anymore...please...no, no, no...no more..._no more_…

After a moment, though, in which nothing happened, he opened his eyes, looking around to find himself not in Dez's house anymore...but in Richard's room. That's right...he wasn't in that hell anymore...Dez was gone, forever...wonderful, beautiful Richard had blessedly come to save him...had carried him inside and made the pain stop...

He grabbed one of Richard's pillows and hugged it to his chest, pressing his face into it and sighing softly. He loved Richard. He loved Richard more than he had ever loved anyone else in his life. And Richard must have liked him too! He had taken the pain away so many times...he'd protected Reid from Dez...saved him...given someone the order to thankfully clothe him now and other times instead of just allowing him to be uncomfortable...Richard had saved him. It didn't matter if Richard loved him or not, Richard liked him enough to do that, and that was enough. Reid loved the man. Reid wanted to stay with him. Reid would be so, _so_ good. He would never, _ever_ try to run away, he would never be bad, he would never make Richard angry ever again...he would do anything..._anything_ to stay here…

The door opened then, and he gasped, frightened until he saw that it was only Ana, who smiled widely at him and leaned the broom she'd been holding up against the wall, coming to stand beside the bed. "You are awake! Good!" she said. "You needed no stitches! Jackie fixed you up. She is good with...medicine and that."

Reid reached up to touch the bandage on his forehead, wincing a little when it throbbed, and then the one on his cheek. He gave her a shy smile and went back to hugging the pillow, like it was the only thing that mattered, and she hummed. "I think my master likes you," she said, and Reid looked up, interested.

"Do not say I told you this, yes? But he looked very worry when he came out, before he told me you were in here and hurt."

Reid tilted his head and _blushed_ a bit, and she looked almost...sad. Reid thought that maybe she believed that meant he'd given up―reduced to wanting love from anyone he could get it from. And maybe she was right. Reid didn't care anymore. He was tired, and _high_, and he just wanted comfort. He nuzzled the pillow gently, and she looked away, sighing. She immediately turned back to him, however, when she heard Reid let out a tiny choking sound, her eyes wide as she stared at him, wondering why he suddenly looked absolutely miserable. "What is it? What is wrong?"

"_Daniel_." Reid breathed, and while Ana hadn't heard a single sound come out of Reid's mouth, she'd read his lips, and she gave him a reassuring smile. "I saw him while you were gone. He is okay."

Reid relaxed, nodding, and then looked back down at the pillow, mindlessly playing with a thread sticking out of one of the seams. Daniel wouldn't be able to stay here, he realized. Daniel would have to go with Jeremy. Maybe Reid loved Daniel, too, because the thought of never seeing him again made his heart ache. Oh, god, as if The Man would ever let Reid go, anyway! It didn't matter what Reid wanted―he was The Man's. He would never be Richard's, no matter how much more desirable that was.

He looked up as Richard came in, immediately smiling widely, and Richard cocked an eyebrow and chuckled quietly. "Good. You're up. Feeling better, too?"

"Yes sir!" Reid replied immediately, and when Richard gestured for him to stand he did so, straightening out the pillows and then coming over to Richard and looking at him with the utmost affection, ready to do absolutely anything the man wanted―

"Go back to your master now."

...Except _that_. Reid's face fell, and he took a step back. "S-sir…?"

Richard frowned at him, waving dismissively towards the door. "Go. Now."

"Yes sir," Reid replied at last, ducking his head down and biting his lip, hugging himself tightly as he made his way downstairs and into the living room. He hardly cared or noticed when The Man grabbed him and pulled him down to sit beside Him, staring at the ground while He grabbed Reid's chin and cursed at him for getting his face hurt.

"I wouldn't always leave your fucking face alone if I liked when it was all fucked up!" He spat, elbowing Reid in the stomach, and Reid doubled over, unwillingly beginning to cry. "Pathetic little slut," Wyatt added, rolling his eyes, and then he stopped dead, grabbing Reid's hair after a moment and pushing him onto the floor. "What the _fuck_ did I tell you about your collar?"

Reid froze, on his knees, and then reached up to feel for the collar that _wasn't there._ "No…" he choked out―where the hell was it? He hadn't taken it off! He had _never_ taken it off! He looked up at The Man and scrambled back as He stood up, shaking his head. "Master, please! I-I'm sorry! I-I don't―"

"I told you―" Wyatt started, grabbing for Reid, and Reid, unable to take anymore pain, any more broken bones, jumped to his feet, looking around and then staggering to the next room, trying to think of how he could get himself out of this―but he couldn't! He just couldn't! _Where the fuck was his collar?_ Had Dez taken it off? He barely remembered anything! And he couldn't think straight enough to even try!

"What are you doing?"

Reid looked up through tear-blurred vision to see Richard, halfway up the stairs, watching him, and Reid reached his arms up towards the man, like he was trying to bring Richard down to him. "Sir! Please!"

"Pet, I swear to you…" Wyatt was saying as he came into the room, and Reid cowered against the banister, still looking up at Richard, who finally spoke up with, "What did he do?"

"He took his fuckin' collar off. I told him what would happen if he did."

"No!" Reid cried again, shaking his head, giving Richard a desperate expression. "Was the other man! Wasn't me!"

Richard sighed. "It's at his house, isn't it?"

"_Yes!_ Yes! Sir! Yes sir!"

"What's he talkin' about?" Wyatt asked, and Reid felt so terribly, terribly relieved. Richard would explain! Richard would make The Man leave him alone...Richard would save him again.

"He must've taken it off when we went out earlier," Richard replied, and Reid felt his heart stop. "It might be in the car. I'll check."

"He still took it off, though...didn't you, pet?"

"No!" Reid sobbed, shaking his head. "No, no!" He looked over at Richard, who had started to leave, and immediately rushed to stop him, dropping to his knees in front of him and placing his hands at Richard's feet, making the man nearly trip. "Sir! Not me! Not me! I didn't! Was him! Please! Tell Him!"

"Get out of my way, will you?" Richard said, rolling his eyes, using his foot to shove Reid to the side, and Reid sat there, unable to move or _breathe_, while Wyatt scoffed behind him, waiting a minute before he spoke again. "You better hope he finds it, pet, or it'll be so much worse…maybe I'll let you choose what I break this time, hm?"

Reid got to his feet again, shaking his head, holding his wrist tightly to his chest and backing away. "Master..._please_...can't...I can't..."

"Oh, you poor thing!" The Man cooed mockingly. "In a lot of pain, are you? Eventually you're not going to be able to move around enough to cause trouble..." He stepped towards Reid, and Reid let out a wail, looking around, and then suddenly his eyes landed on the phone on the wall beside him. He stared at it, then looked back at The Man, then back at the phone, and then he grabbed it, holding it up as if he really had the courage to do anything with it.

"Oh, don't you _dare_," Wyatt growled, and Jeremy peered in from the other room, freezing when he saw what Reid was holding. "I'll end you before they even pick up. I'll―hmm."

Reid frowned, uncertain why The Man _and _Jeremy suddenly looked so calm, like he couldn't care less what Reid did anymore, before he felt something brush against the back of his head, and abruptly there was something around his neck, pulled tight enough it made him wheeze, and he backed up a little only to run into the one trying to choke him.

"Relax," Richard ordered. "Relax. Drop the phone."

"S-ir!" Reid managed. "P-uh-lease!"

"Drop the fucking phone," Richard hissed, pulling harder, and Reid looked at The Man, who seemed to believe Richard had complete control over the situation, standing back and watching. Reid blinked hard, looking down at the phone, and then Richard kneed the back of his legs and dropped him to his knees, kicking the phone out of Reid's grip. Reid moaned, trying to both reach for it again and take a breath, unable to do either.

"Stop fighting, boy." Richard said into his ear, and Reid clenched his fists for a moment before slumping helplessly back against the man. Richard finally loosened his hold, fastening what he'd been using―that _goddamn collar_―around Reid's neck. Reid didn't move, gasping raggedly for breath, and then he wasn't sure what happened for a while until he opened his eyes again, laying on his stomach on the floor. He blinked hard, gulping in another deep breath to assure himself that he could, and then at once became aware of the shouting going on beside him. He didn't move, closing his eyes again when he saw a shadow move over him, trying to steady his breathing.

"...can't fucking believe this," Jeremy was saying, "you still wanna take him? After that? Really? I'm not going back to prison, Wyatt! Not because of him! He'll fucking ruin us!"

"He's high," The Man spat back, "he has no fucking idea what he's doing!"

"Are you that fucking sure? Really?"

"I'm fucking sure," The Man growled, and Reid yelped when The Man suddenly grabbed him by his hurt wrist, yanking him to his feet, shoving his hand over the younger man's mouth when he began to cry. "Rich, where's your fuckin' basement?"

Even muffled, Reid found his own panicked protests too loud to hear the answer, and then he was being manhandled to the door at the end of the hall. "Mm! N-nm!"

"Shut the hell up!" The Man shouted, yanking the door open and shoving Reid hard enough he lost his balance and, with a shriek, toppled over and down the stairs. By some miracle, however, Reid only really _fell_ down a few, managing somehow to catch himself and simply slide relatively safely, albeit _painfully_, down the last half, coming to lie in a gasping, shivering heap at the bottom. He laid absolutely still, his eyes closed, and didn't make a sound even as someone stomped down after him, nudging him roughly with a foot and pushing him onto his side. A hand touched under his nose, and felt under his chin for a pulse, and then they went back upstairs.

"He's breathing," he heard Richard say, and The Man scoffed, sounding disappointed as he replied, "Damn." and then slammed the door, bolting it from the outside and leaving Reid in complete darkness.

It was a while before he heard anything else―maybe he'd lost consciousness, he couldn't tell. But eventually, the door opened again, and, still curled up at the bottom of the stairs, Reid didn't move until―

"Dr. Reid?"

Reid relaxed only a little upon hearing the ex-detective's voice instead of His, opening his eyes and raising his head to look up at him.

"Dr. Reid?" Brown murmured again, almost a whisper, going down a few more steps, and Reid realized the other man couldn't see him yet. But Reid could see _him_, and, Christ, he had one of the most regretful expressions Reid had ever seen, even on convicted murderers who pleaded guilty. It was..._pathetic._

"Are you alright?" Brown continued, and Reid felt like a deer caught in headlights when the man's eyes finally focused enough to look at him, and Brown sat down a few steps from the bottom, holding his hand out. "Are you hurt? From the fall?" he asked, and Reid started to move away, only stilling once Brown moved his hand away, apparently realizing he wasn't welcome anywhere near Reid.

"N-n-no sir," Reid stammered in response, fearing punishment if he didn't give one, and Brown visibly relaxed, as if the physical pain would somehow be worse than everything else.

"Sorry," Brown added, standing up, like he was going to go back up. Even in the silence, he almost didn't hear Reid whisper two words in utter desperation, voice shaking with too many emotions to even begin to decipher.

"_Help me_."

Brown stopped, but he didn't say anything.

"_Please_."

He glanced at the younger man over his shoulder, biting his lip. He was silent for a very long time, in which Reid slumped back down, tucking his arms under his head and closing his eyes, exhausted and simply unable to hope anymore, before finally he said, "Okay."

Reid blinked, staring blankly into the darkness for a moment before he looked up at Brown. The other man hadn't turned around, hadn't moved a muscle, and Reid was starting to wonder if he'd been hearing things until Brown slowly let out a breath, nodding. "Okay."

"...Sir?"

"Don't talk. Don't say another word. Just...stay here. I-I have to think."

_Where else, exactly, could I go?_ Reid wondered bitterly, watching as the man went back up the stairs.

"I'll be back," Brown finished, so very quietly, and Reid watched him click the small light by the door back off before going, locking the door again, leaving Reid to question if he was merely being tricked again, or if...by some miracle...he had someone, _finally_, on his side.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK. IT'S ME. I am so sorry for leaving this for so long, but boy, I hope to keep it going until I finish this time. You guys are so amazing. Over the last months I've gotten so many amazing messages and reviews wanting me to continue this, and I thank every single one of you. I tried, and tried, and finally, I succeeded. It's an update, guys. Look at it. And oh, it's a _beautiful _one. I hope you enjoy, and I promise to see you soon!**

**WARNINGS: _Very_ vague, very brief non-con.**

**_xxx_**

_"I will not die without fighting for a life I am not yet done living."_

— Bethany Wiggins, Stung

**28.**

Brown had long since come to the conclusion that he was just as insane as his brother, but the fact that he'd ever thought that his life, that him not going to jail, was ever more important than innocent kids, than Spencer...he was just as _disgusting _as Wyatt, too. And all that had led him to the plan that he had decided he, indefinitely, had to go through with. There was no more hesitation, there was no more waiting. This was it. This had to be it. It had to end. Brown had to _make_ it end.

And so, when everyone had been asleep for a few hours, Brown sat up from his position on the couch and looked around. He ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, closing his eyes, and took several deep breaths. After a moment, he stood, and made his way over to the basement door, opening it. He felt around for a light switch, clicked it, and silently went down the steps. Several of the girls stirred in their beds, looking over at him in confusion, and he put a finger over his lips. Thankfully they obeyed, and he finally located Reid lying in the corner, kneeling beside him and closing his hand over Reid's mouth. Reid jerked violently and gave a muffled sob before Brown shook him gently and made a gesture for him to be quiet before releasing him.

Reid scrambled back to sit against the wall, panting, his eyes wide, and Brown's own eyes were dark as he met Reid's gaze.

"I'm helping you," Brown said, hardly louder than an exhalation, and Reid suddenly looked as if he was seeing some sort of angel. His face flushed, and his eyes watered, and he whimpered softly as Brown grabbed his unhurt wrist. "Come on. Get up. You have to get out of here before the police come. I've got the keys to their car. I have them. You just...have to get the fuck outta here. Wyatt...is not gonna be happy."

Reid got to his feet, nodding vigorously, and then frowned as Brown gestured for him to follow. "Mm..."

"What?"

"D...Daniel!" Reid managed, and Brown winced. Shit! He hadn't even thought about Daniel! He'd practically forgotten about the other's existance, so caught up in his guilt over Reid and Reid alone! Oh, that wasted so much time...no, they didn't have that much...someone was bound to wake up sooner or later...

"S...sir?"

"I know." Brown said. "Fuck. I know. You're right. Both of you have to leave. Alright. Listen to me. If I do that, you...you have to get the key to the door, okay? It's...uh, well, upstairs. In Richard's room."

Reid flinched, having gone from hopeful to relieved and right back to terrified in nearly the same instant. "N-no—"

"You fuckin' have to," Brown hissed, shaking Reid's wrist and then finally releasing him. "We don't have time. Or else, shit, wait for me to get back, get the thing myself, and _then_ get you out of here. We'll see how that fucking works out! What happens if we all get caught, huh?

Reid hugged himself tightly, shaking his head. He didn't want to. Oh, _Christ_, he didn't want to. He didn't want to go upstairs. He just wanted to leave. He just wanted to fucking _leave!_ But...maybe Brown was right. This was already so, so risky...they couldn't wait any longer. Besides...they were all asleep, right?

Finally he forced his hands by his sides again and stiffly nodded, and Brown sighed in relief. Reid was positive Brown had never wanted to get it himself in the first place. "One of the girl's told me where it was last night. I asked. It's in a glass bowl by Richard's bed."

After a moment of hesitation, Reid swallowed hard and again nodded.

"He's asleep. They're all asleep. No one's moved in hours, okay? It's...I'll get Daniel. Just...just fucking go." He put his hand on Reid's shoulder, briefly, and then left, and Reid was left staring, wondering if _he _was still asleep, too. He had to be dreaming. He felt like he was. There was a fog in his mind, a blur in the edges of his vision, and he almost couldn't focus through his fear. Somehow, eventually, he got himself up to the second floor, breathing harshly. Knowing too well exactly which room was Richard's, he touched the doorknob, took a deep breath, opened the door as silently as he could—and found Richard on his bed, asleep.

The door made no sound.

Reid made no sound.

He watched the ground as he moved, bare feet placed carefully, one in front of the other, one step at a time, one foot...then the other...one foot...then the other. His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped it wasn't as loud in reality as he was hearing it in his own ears. When he finally looked up, he was right in front of Richard's bedside table, and with delicate movements, Reid reached into the little glass bowl, fingers closing around the one object inside.

_The key. _He had it, his freedom, Daniel's freedom, in his grasp.

He almost smiled, but his attention was suddenly caught by something right beside the bowl.

An ashtray, he could see now, even in the dim light only given by moonlight.

And resting in it, a cigarette, the end still glowing a dull orange.

_No._

Reid whipped around, eyes squeezed shut, and started his way back towards the door, praying Richard just fell asleep incredibly fast, that _had _to be it, and then—

"What are you doing in here, little boy?"

Reid froze in terror at the soft, sickly sweet voice that came from behind him, the bed creaking as Richard sat up.

"Who let you out, hmm? I don't think it was your master, now was it?"

Trembling, Reid turned around, and Richard smiled at the key in his hand. "Oh. That's what this is about? I thought you wanted to stay with me..." He sighed and then stood, stretching casually, making Reid back up. "I was just finishing a good book when I heard you outside the door. Didn't know it was you, of course, until you opened the it... No one else would do that without permission." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, poor boy. So curious. So disobedient. You know, there's still a code to be entered at the door, and that's not written anywhere. The alarm would have gone off before you got very far, and you'd have simply been dragged right back. Hm. I suppose I'm going to have to tell Wyatt, aren't I?"

Fear stronger than his will to leave overwhelmed Reid, and he held the key out. "No, sir. Please no, sir!"

"Well," the man said, taking the key and putting his hand on Reid's shoulder. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement..." He roughly shoved Reid to his knees, and Reid hung his head. They would be so disappointed in him for this—for giving in so easily. His team, his mother, everyone he'd ever known, everyone that had ever looked up to him...the kids. He had spent so long telling them to be strong, when he had been slowly but surely losing his will to even breathe. What was he doing? What was he _doing?_ He wanted go to home. He wanted to go home _more_ than he didn't want to be used and beaten again.

And Daniel...if Reid stayed, Daniel would have to stay too, and neither of them would last much longer, especially not with what had happened, not when every time they made eye contact they got hurt. He couldn't do this—he couldn't. Everyone he loved would want him to fight, no matter how much pain it caused. And no matter how much he didn't want anymore pain...no matter how much he couldn't _handle_ anymore pain...

Richard grabbed his hair and yanked him forward, and Reid's mind went back to the journal he'd been reading the day he had felt safe in the hotel room, to every word he remembered. And Garcia had been so proud of him speaking! JJ had been so happy to see him! Morgan, too! All of them! They loved him, they believed in him, they wanted him home! He wanted himself home! He missed them...he missed them so, so much! He had to—he needed to—home! He had to go _home!_

Reid didn't know exactly when he'd decided to do it, or even when he _did_ do it, but suddenly Richard was slapping him away with a gasp, falling to his knees, and Reid scrambled back, panting, leaning heavily against the bedside table for support.

"You little fuck! You think that's funny, huh? You think that's gonna help you? I'm gonna rip out every last one of your teeth with pliers!" He swung his hand out, trying to grab Reid, but Reid hit it back and stood, staggering away in surprise—and horror. Richard only had to yell a little louder, and everything would be over.

And so, when Richard opened his mouth—whether it was to talk or shout, Reid didn't care—Reid grabbed the glass jar and unhesitatingly bashed the man over the head with it. It shattered into several large pieces, cutting up his hand, and Richard silently crumpled to the floor, blood trickling onto the carpet from his hairline.

Stunned, Reid held his hand closer and stared for a moment before slowly, cautiously crouching down to look for the key, feeling around while keeping his eyes on the man. He thought he heard something in the hall, then, and so he began to use both hands, and then suddenly his injured wrist was grabbed and yanked on, sending him to the floor with a yelp of pain.

"You little shit!" Richard swore angrily and flipped him over, bringing his fists against Reid, and Reid again struck out with his legs. Richard knocked them away, scowling. "Stop it, boy!"

"No!" Reid hissed, hitting the man again as the man reached for his neck, and Richard briefly lost his balance, letting out a grunt, catching himself with a hand on Reid's side. "_Fuck_—"

For the briefest of moments, Reid only registered that there was suddenly no air in his lungs, and everything seemed to have stopped moving, and something was _really wrong,_ only he didn't know what.

And then—

"Look what you made me do, slut." Richard clicked his tongue and shook his head, and Reid looked at the man as he lifed himself up to kneel, scoffing, looking at what was in his hand. Vaguely, Reid could see the sharp, triangular piece of glass held in his palm, stained a color far different than what it had been originally.

It took another moment, and then another, and then Reid blinked and weakly cried out and realized that it was blood—_his_ blood.

"I only meant to make you shut up," Richard chuckled, pressing it to Reid's neck, then dropping it to the floor. "What a shame. Wyatt won't be happy...or hell, maybe he won't care. What's another scar, right? You're already ruined."

Reid flinched, and yet still he felt no physical pain. Even his wrist had gone numb, and it frightened him. His eyes travelled down the other man to his own body, where his shirt had been pulled up just a bit at his waist...where there was now a thick red line, beside which his shirt was beginning to turn the same color.

"Ooh, that looks bad! Poor thing," Richard said, mockingly, and then leaned over and grabbed Reid's face. "You're helpless. You're nothing. And you really thought I loved you? I don't love whores, boy, and I especially don't love you. You were a good fuck, and that's it. That's all you'll ever be to anyone." He chuckled and wiped at Reid's eye. "And you're still crying, my god. Pathetic. I thought Wyatt would've beat the tears out of you already. Maybe I should do it for him, huh? You broke into my room, you tried to steal, so really, you deserve it. I—oh!" The man cut off and snapped back as Reid's knee connected between his legs, nearly knocking him out from the pain. With tears in his own eyes, enraged, he shoved Reid back to the floor, grabbed his throat with both hands, and spat in his face.

"You're gonna look a lot different when you wake up, whore! I can promise you that!" he hissed, pleased as Reid stilled, his arms falling limp, and his eyes started to roll up—and then Reid spent the very last bit of strength he had left to grab ahold of the shard of glass at his fingers—the one Richard had dropped—locate Richard's blurred face, and then swing the weapon across it with all his strength.

He blacked out for a moment, returning to himself to desperately gasp air into his burning lungs as Richard's grip loosened and then fell away completely, and he weakly crawled a foot or two away before he collapsed, trying to calm his loud panting as he heard something. He thought it was Richard speaking for a second, and he feared he'd only made things worse, but as he managed to open his eyes, his vision cleared out to see Richard lying on his side, making gurgling sounds, his eyes wide and focused somewhere behind Reid—and a pool of blood under his neck, which Reid now realized he had sliced cleanly across with the glass.

He cried out in shock and scrambled to his feet, backing against the wall, and then Richard stopped making any noise at all. His eyes stared blankly, and Reid felt faint. It took a few moments for him to register what he'd just done. And then he moaned, bent over, and threw up until there was nothing left.

He fell to his knees, then, holding his side, and tried to regain his breath. It was starting to hurt now, a _lot_, and he found that while it was not a very long gash, Richard had (accidentally?) pushed the shard in with all of his weight, and it was deep. Not deadly. He wouldn't die...if it stopped bleeding. It had hit nothing vital. But oh, God, that didn't mean it didn't _hurt. _He covered it with his hand and stood up, staggering into the bathroom, searching for anything he could use. He didn't have _time_ to tend to it—he needed something to wrap it, and then he needed to get the fuck out of here before anyone else tried to kill him.

He opened the cabinet and fumbled through what was there, settling on shoving a wad of toilet paper against the wound and wrapping gauze tightly around his waist. He then limped back over to Richard's body, stepping over to take the key that lay on the ground beside him, glinting in the light from the bathroom. He closed his eyes, and then, shakily, clutching it tightly in his hand, opened the door, and then closed it again as he exited back into the dark, silent hallway without a single glance back.

It took a little longer than he would have liked for Reid to limp down the stairs, but once he reached the ground floor, Daniel was peering around the living room wall, smiling widely when they made eye-contact and then slowly looking him over and stepping back in fear.

"Oh, my god." Brown murmured, pushing past Daniel, and his eyes went wide, holding out the car keys with shaking hands. "What did you _do?"_

Reid ignored him, grabbing the keys, and then gestured for Daniel to come with him. Daniel looked frightened as hell for a second, as if he was wondering if trusting the other was such a good idea anymore, and then he nodded and followed Reid as he ran towards the door.

"Oh shit, oh shit," Brown was mumbling to himself, a hand tightly grasping at his hair, and then he glanced up and saw Reid standing at the door, turned towards him almost expectantly. "Go, you idiot! Go!"

That was all Reid needed to hear. He shoved the key into the door, opened it, and then grabbed Daniel's hand, the both of them speeding across the yard together. Daniel kept his eyes on the house, breathing erratically, while Reid unlocked the car, hopping into the seat, and he had the vehicle in motion before Daniel had even totally gotten in.

"You're bleeding," Daniel gasped, reaching out, and yet Reid flinched away from the concerned touch and swatted Daniel's hand away, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal so hard the wheels screeched at the very second the house's security alarm started to go off, surely waking up everyone else.

"Oh…oh god…oh my god…oh my god, I can't…we can't do this…" Daniel sobbed after they turned onto the road, burying his face in his hands, and Reid didn't reply, didn't even give a second thought. _Yes they fucking could _do this, and he was never, _ever_ going back. Not this time.

**_xxx_**

Brown hadn't bothered trying to run, not even when he heard footsteps pounding down the stairs, or when he heard his brother began yelling at him. It hardly mattered, anyway. Maybe if Wyatt killed him, he wouldn't have to live through prison.

"What the fuck did you do?" Wyatt demanded, cornering the other against the wall. "Where are they?"

Brown stared at him, silent, and the other shouted in anger and struck him, and then put both hands around his neck. "I swear to god, you tell me where they went, or I'll break your neck right here, just like I'm gonna do to that fucking federal piece of shit! You hear me? They'll never fucking find you!"

He frowned as Brown suddenly gave a little smirk, and something dropped to the floor. Wyatt glanced down at Brown's cell phone, which was open, and still connected to the police department, the one he'd already given this address to, told absolutely everything he could in the very limited amount of time he'd had, and Wyatt stared at it. It wasn't hard for him to conclude who was listening.

"But—they're—gonna find you," Brown coughed out, and Wyatt grabbed the other's hair and slammed his head against the wall until he crumpled, and then smashed the phone with his boot. He took a deep breath, cast a disgusted look down at the other, and then shouted for Jeremy to get Richard's keys, quickly making his way out to Richard's car.

It was time to end this.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Hey guys! I'll keep this very short and sweet: Hope you're all well, and hope you enjoy! Because, wow. _Shit gets real._**

**Reviews as always are loved and appreciated; thanks for all your support so far!**

_**xxx**_

"Your friends will believe in your potential...

your enemies will make you live up to it."

― Tim Fargo

**29.**

"We're running out of time, Hotch! We need to find him now!"

JJ was pacing frantically in front of the dead end that was Dez's house in Tennessee, throwing her arms up in frustration as Morgan came out from his third personal search of the premises. "Anything?"

Morgan shook his head, solemnly, and Hotch touched JJ's shoulder, stilling her for just a moment. "JJ, listen. You know we're doing everything we can. We care about him just as much as you do. We have every available officer searching for _miles_. If he's here, we're going to find him."

"I know, I know—but—for God's sake, there has to be something else—anything! I'm just—I—" She grimaced, putting a hand on her head and the other on her stomach. She was driving herself mad with anxiety...it couldn't be good for the baby...it definitely wasn't for her.

"Slow down," Morgan said, taking her hands as she attempted to continue her pacing. "Hey. Breathe. You're okay. He's okay. We're going to find him, you hear me?"

JJ practically slumped against Morgan for a moment, resting her cheek on his shoulder, and did her best to hold back tears as he hugged her. "Yeah...I just…"

"Agents!"

JJ's attention was immediately on the officer that approached them, pulling away from Morgan and staring at them with wide eyes. "Yes?"

"A 911 call just came into the station. A man named Garrett Brown—he gave information, an address—said it was where they were holding your Dr. Reid."

"He what?" Morgan was dumbfounded—that bastard was...what, _helping_ them now? It didn't seem likely. "That—it could be a trap—"

"Let it be," JJ said, and she was halfway to the car before either of them had begun to move. "Trap or not, it's a lead, and it means not standing here anymore. Let's go."

**_xxx_**

"Spencer, please let me help," Daniel said, while, for the third time since they'd gotten in the car, trying to reach out to press his hand to Reid's side, and once again Reid gave a sound of pain and shrank away. Why did Daniel insist on touching it? It hurt! He wanted the boy to stop it! "_Hurts!_"

"I know it hurts! I know! But it's bleeding really bad, okay? Like, everywhere!"

Reid glanced down for the first time since they'd left, two minutes or two lifetimes ago, and realized Daniel was very right. Blood had soaked right through the gauze, running down his side onto the seat, onto the console...it wasn't stopping as quickly as he would have liked. He felt sick. Had he inspected it closely enough before? Yes, and he was fine...it _had_ to be fine...

"Please?" Daniel asked again, and Reid finally nodded, wincing as Daniel leaned over, inspecting it closely and then, unhesitatingly, taking off his shirt, folding it up, and pressing it over the wound.

"Ah!" Reid gasped, the pain actually dimming his vision for a moment, and Daniel put his other hand over Reid's on the wheel. "You're okay! I promise! You're fine!"

Reid's heart fluttered, ever so slightly. He looked over at Daniel, though before he could say a thing, a _thank you_, a screech of tires that was _not_ from their own vehicle made both of them jump, and Reid's eyes went to the rear-view mirror.

He wished they hadn't. Behind them—no, practically _beside_ them was—

"Spencer, look out!"

Daniel's voice was terrified. Reid had absolutely no choice but to slam on the breaks, lest they crash into the car that suddenly veered right in front of them, both vehicles clipping bumpers and coming to a dead halt.

Dazed, Reid reoriented himself, staring at Daniel with wide eyes as the other boy moaned softly, his forehead against Reid's shoulder. He was grimacing in pain and looked barely conscious, and Reid quickly realized that while neither of them had been wearing a seat belt, Reid hadn't been the one half bent over against the steering wheel. Daniel whined, doubling over to hold his no doubt bruised or even broken ribs, and then—shit—what was Reid _doing_—they had to get _out_ of here—and then Reid _screamed_ as the door was yanked open, and Wyatt dragged him out of the car by his hair. "No! No! _Stop!_ No more!_ Help! _Help me!"

"Shut up! I'm going to fucking _kill_ you!" Wyatt hissed, gun in hand, slamming him against the car and shoving the gun into his stomach.

Reid's vision went white. He had _never_ in his life felt pain like that action resulted in, his entire body jerking violently as he let out a silent cry, slumping to the ground, vomiting onto the pavement and then curling up. He was no longer so sure he wasn't dying; he would have _preferred_ it to the agony he was in now.

Wyatt stared at him, then at the blood he was covered in, scowling and glaring at Reid accusingly. His fault._ Always his fault._ "What the hell—?"

"He's hurt!" Daniel was sobbing as Jeremy dragged him out and to the other car, blood trailing down from a gash on his forehead, unable to even stand up straight. "Please! Please! Help him! It was my idea! Please! He's hurt! Spencer!"

"Shut up!" Jeremy said, stunning Daniel with a blow to his already injured head, wrapping a tie tight around Daniel's wrists, and then shoving him into the back seat.

"Aw, you're hurt? How'd that happen, hm? Did Richard fight back?" Wyatt spat, kneeling down and placing the gun back into the pocket inside his coat, grabbing Reid's collar. "Did he fight back when you two fucking _murdered_ him? You little shit. You think that hurts—" He twisted Reid's broken hand, further than it should have gone, and Reid threw up again. "I'll beat you so fucking hard you'll—"

"Wyatt! Come on!" Jeremy interrupted him, watching him with wide eyes. "Now!"

"Get up, you fucking whore, get up!" Wyatt screeched, and Reid took a desperate breath, trying to speak, to fight, but everything hurt far too much. Darkness swam at the edges of his vision, and he couldn't even focus enough to form a complete word, let alone a sentence. "Ma—_Mas_—hhh—ahh—" He was sick a third time, and this time it was bright red, and he completely slumped, moaning and whimpering between ragged gasps.

"_Wyatt!_ What the fuck!? Let's go!" Jeremy said, raising his arms in utter exasperation and coming over to Wyatt. "Look at him! Unless you get him to a hospital, he's done! Let's move! Not going back to jail! Leaving now! With or without you, motherfucker!"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Wyatt muttered, shaking his head and sighing in disappointment as he looked down at Reid, grabbing Reid's chin and then cupping his cheek. Reid didn't respond at all, eyes half rolled back, his breathing shallow and desperate, and Wyatt dug his nails into Reid's wound, and Reid hardly made a sound. "Damn. That's a goddamn shame. After all the time I spent on you, you die on me. Fucker. I hope you're in pain."

He turned to look at the car, at Jeremy. In the second the man's attention was not on Reid, muscles tensed to stand, Reid, in an adrenaline-fueled last-ditch effort, jerked forward, slapped the man's coat open, and grabbed the gun out of its pocket.

"What the fuck—" Wyatt started, half staggering, and then scoffed when he found the barrel pointed directly at his chest, with Reid, completely exhausted, blood trailing from his nose and mouth, staring him down. It was hardly a threatening sight, and it brought a laugh out of Wyatt, even when, so very weakly, Reid cocked the weapon.

"Come now, pet. You don't have the—"

There was no hesitation. Reid's finger had found the trigger, and he pulled. And when Jeremy gave an attempt to run back to the car, Reid aimed and shot him, too, taking three bullets to hit his target but dropping him to the ground just as hard as Wyatt.

Daniel had broken out of his makeshift restraints just seconds before he heard the gunshots, and he cried out, forcing the door open and rushing over, fearing the worst, only…

Only Spencer was not the only one on the ground, now. Now there were three, and Spencer was the only one moving. He was gasping, trembling, still holding the gun, and when Daniel dropped to his knees beside him, Reid cried out and swung the gun around to point at Daniel, eyes full of fear.

"Don't!" Daniel yelped, striking the gun out of Reid's hand, which ended up being an awfully easy thing to do. Reid blinked several times, finally seeming to recognize Daniel. He blinked again, much slower, and choked out, "D...Dan..."

"You...you killed them! I can't...I can't fucking believe—Spencer—oh, god, you're really, _really_ bleeding..." He gathered Reid up into his arms and held him tightly, pressing his hand over the wound again. "It's okay...I'll just...we can still get to the hospital! You'll be okay!" He tried to stand, but had forgotten about his own injuries. The movement nearly made him faint, and he could no longer take in as much air as he needed. He felt sick, and dizzy, and as he slumped back to the ground, Reid had gone frighteningly limp and quiet, and Daniel couldn't even tell if the other was breathing. "No—no, hold on—wake up—Spencer—please wake up—don't—I love you—please don't go—"

Vaguely, he heard more tires screeching, but he didn't look up, cradling Reid against him, face buried in Reid's hair, and then all of a sudden there was shouting, and hands touching him, and—

"Get off! Don't! _No!_" he screamed, holding Reid tighter, and someone's soft, soothing voice replied, "We're here to help! It's okay!"

Daniel finally looked up, looked into the swarm of police cars and federal agents that had surrounded them, looked at the paramedics that were trying to pry Reid out of his grip, and then started to cry harder, immediately letting go and scrambling back, burying his face in his hands. It didn't matter! Nothing mattered! They were too late!

"Holy shit!" The shout came from close by, and someone shoved their way to the front, coming over to the two so fast, with such loud footsteps pounding onto the concrete, that Daniel jerked his head up and moved even further away. "No, no—"

"Hey, it's okay. We're gonna help you. I'm Agent Morgan. I'm with the FBI."

Daniel shut down. He could say nothing else, _do_ nothing, just put his hands to his head and shake it, until four words came through the haze, clear as a bell.

"I've got a pulse!"

He blinked in a hopeless attempt to clear his vision, focusing as much as he could on the medics that were hauling Spencer up and onto a gurney, and wasn't at all sure he had heard right. Spencer was...alive? He was..._alive?_

The one who'd called himself Morgan was still beside him, trying to coax him back into reality. "Hey, you hear that? He's gonna be okay. That's my friend right there, my partner, and he's gonna be fine. So are you. Can you hear me?"

Daniel looked up, but his eyesight was almost completely failing him now. It had gone very dark, and he felt very weak. Still, conditioned to respond, he managed, "Yessir?"

"You're safe," Morgan said. "You're okay. It's over. We're gonna get you home."

"Yessir." Daniel said, and Morgan nearly didn't catch him with how quickly he crumpled after the words left his lips.

_**xxx**_

It didn't take long at all for them to get to the stretch of road that ended up leading them to Spencer, but it felt like an eternity. The very second they saw the vehicles in the middle of the road—matching the car described...could it really be...?—half of the officers were already out of their cars and on their feet, guns raised as they approached, and—

"Holy shit!" Morgan exclaimed as he stepped out of the car, running as fast as his tired legs would take him over to where the medics brought along had gathered around a small, bloody, familiar body, and his heart nearly stopped. Oh, no. They couldn't be too late, they just couldn't be—

"No, no!"

His attention was caught by the boy on the ground, curling into himself and trembling violently, mumbling to himself and just as terrified as Morgan recalled Reid looking the last time they had seen him. "Hey, it's okay," he said, kneeling down beside the boy. "We're gonna help you. I'm Agent Morgan. I'm with the FBI."

The boy seemed to have heard him, but he didn't respond, covering his ears and starting to cry, and Morgan looked over at the medics, at JJ as she watched from several feet away, and saw her nearly faint from relief when she heard the words they spoke, indicating that Spencer was alive, even if just barely.

The boy beside Morgan gave a whimper, and Morgan looked back at him, managing a smile. "Hey, you hear that? He's gonna be okay. That's my friend right there, my partner, and he's gonna be fine. So are you. Can you hear me?"

The boy blinked, very slowly. Morgan could actually see him starting to fade out. "...Yessir?"

"You're safe. You're okay. It's over. We're gonna get you home," Morgan replied.

The boy mumbled an agreement before his eyes rolled back, and Morgan pulled the boy safely into his arms. JJ was suddenly beside him as he stood, looking at the boy, then Morgan. "Is he—"

"He's breathing."

"They—I have to go with Spence—in the ambulance—"

"Go." Morgan said, and she nodded, hurrying off as they loaded Reid into the back of one ambulance just as another two pulled up. As it opened, Morgan carried the boy to it and placed him onto the waiting gurney, looking over at Hotch as he came closer. "I'm gonna—"

"They've both still got a pulse over here! Medic!"

Hotch turned his attention just briefly to the one who had yelled, kneeling on the concrete by one of the criminals, but Morgan squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head, and pretended he hadn't heard a thing. "I'm gonna ride along, see if he wakes up and can give anything helpful."

"Alright," Hotch said. "We'll all meet you at the hospital."

"Yeah," Morgan said, sitting in beside the medic setting up an IV, sighing and rubbing at his face as the doors closed.

They were halfway to the hospital when JJ heard Reid whimper softly, looking up from where she sat as close to him as they would allow, squeezing his hand even tighter. "Spence?"

Reid looked so terribly small and frightened, his eyes wide and panicked, and he was starting to fog up his oxygen mask as he fought to catch his breath, looking around.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe, Spencer, you're okay. We're almost at the hospital. Just breathe, okay? I'm here. You're safe. Can you hear me?"

Reid blinked hard, watching her, and she hoped maybe that was a yes, so she continued to try and soothe him. "You're safe. I promise. We won't let you go again. You're safe. You're okay."

Somehow, through the haze, Reid finally understood what was happening. He clearly recognized JJ, a medic on either side of him, and the mask over his mouth. Ambulance. Hospital. Was...was Daniel okay? He had to be...he had to be okay...

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He managed to squeeze her hand, very weakly, and the smile on her face made him forget the pain, and the worry. "Oh, Spence...you're going to be okay."

Reid still couldn't be sure this wasn't just a dream, but as his eyes closed again and he drifted off, it didn't matter. He, finally, _finally,_ for the first time in so, _so_ long, felt _safe__, _and maybe...just maybe...he _was_.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Yay, this didn't take as long to get up! Hoping to keep a relatively stable 2 or so week schedule until this is finished! I ...have no idea … what I'm going to do when this is done. It terrifies me to think about. I've never finished a fanfic I've worked on this long before. It's like...my child. Thankfully, though, we're not there just yet! Hope you enjoy!**

**Reviews as always are loved and appreciated!**

_**xxx**_

"Anything cracked will shatter at a touch."

― Publius Ovidius Naso

**30.**

Morgan just barely managed to get Daniel's name out of him in the brief moments he slipped back into consciousness on the way to the hospital. He whimpered, terrified, and Morgan took his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to be comforting despite the medics starting to fret over him, murmuring about a slowly dropping blood pressure, and the fact he wasn't getting enough oxygen, even with the mask fitted over his face. "Hey. You're alright. We're almost there. Can you tell me your name?"

Daniel answered, softly, and then once again stammered out, "Spencer…"

"You'll be able to see him soon, okay?" Morgan said, as the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room, and he quickly hopped out to allow the medics to get the gurney onto the ground, watching as they rushed the boy into the hospital.

"Morgan," Emily was beside him at once, followed by Hotch and the others, and she settled a hand on his upper shoulder. "You good?"

"Not really," Morgan said, honestly, and quickly gestured for Garcia to come over to him. "Baby girl, I got his name. Think you can do a little searchin' for his parents?"

"Always," Garcia said, smiling sadly, and they quickly made their way inside for her to sit, bringing out her laptop. "Hit me."

"Daniel. He looks...maybe twenty-one? Range it up to Reid's age... African American descent. Damn, that's not much, is it?"

"I've done more with less," Garcia hummed, clicking away on her keyboard, and JJ appeared from one of the hallways, coming over to them. "They took him to surgery...Christ...there was...a lot of blood…they were talking about a possible transfusion...he...the doctors had to touch him, and he was crying...they had to sedate him…I tried to help...he was so scared…"

"Sweetness," Garcia said, heartbroken, looking up from the computer, and Emily quickly came over to wrap her arms around JJ. JJ let out a small sob, shaking her head, and Emily led her over to sit in one of the chairs, rubbing her back. "It's okay. It's okay. He's going to be okay. Why don't you call Will, huh?"

"I can't even breathe," JJ said, voice nearly a whisper. "I don't want to talk."

"Alright, alright. You don't have to. Just take a couple breaths. He's safe. He—"

Morgan had been slightly hunched over, watching Garcia work, but as the sliding doors opened again, Emily stopped speaking, and he straightened up, stiff as a board, and watched as two more gurneys were rolled in, with medics acting like the men on them were worth caring about. He wanted them dead...that was the only justice that would be good enough for them.

A third wheeled its way in several minutes later, only this time the person on it was conscious, albeit dazed, face covered in blood. He was struggling to sit up, eyes wide, as he looked over at the group of agents. Only Hotch and Morgan could meet the man's eyes, and Brown choked out, "I'm sorry—is he okay? Is he? I'm sorry—"

"Get him out of here," Morgan said through clenched teeth, stepping threatening towards the man, who shrank back down on the gurney like he had the right to be afraid, covering his face with his hands as they rolled him off down the hall.

"I feel sick," JJ mumbled, leaning over. "They're...they're not…?"

"I heard they had a pulse," Morgan said. "I didn't hear they were gonna make it."

JJ glanced up at him and then shook her head, rubbing at her face as Emily continued to try and comfort her.

"Hey, got 'em!" Garcia said. "Daniel Bryant."

"That was pretty fast," Rossi said, ever impressed, and she smiled. "Does it even surprise you?" she asked, and then continued. "There were a lot of names, but only a few that went missing in the past five years, so I started there. He went missing from his college campus in Montana almost four years ago. And oh, he was so loved. They still have a memorial page up on the school's website."

"And his parents?" Hotch said.

"You know me; already found."

"JJ?"

JJ looked up at Hotch, and he gestured at the laptop. "Why don't you call them."

With a deep breath, JJ sat up and nodded, taking out her cell, dialing the number, and then heading off to stand by the window.

"Hello? Mrs. Bryant? This is Jennifer Jaraeu with the FBI. I'm calling about your son, Daniel. Yes. I have news. No, no, ma'am. It's good news. He's alive."

_**xxx**_

It took a long while for Reid to finally break the hold the seemingly never-ending darkness had on him; even after everything he'd endured, it was possible that this was the most difficult. He was so tired, and each time he could hear something going on around him, or felt touches, he could do nothing but allow sleep to take him over again, because fighting it took strength he did not yet have.

Everything was silent as he finally opened his eyes, and immediately he had to squeeze them shut again. It was too bright...his head hurt...he couldn't remember anything! What was happening? Where was he?

Vaguely, echoing, he heard what sounded like footsteps, heavy on the floor beside him, and he cringed. Suddenly, he believed himself to be with The Man. He'd misbehaved, hadn't he? Of course. And he'd paid for it. And now, if he didn't look up, he was going to be hurt again, and God, please, he couldn't handle that…

He couldn't make out words, or whose voice it was, only that someone had spoken. He groaned softly, cringing, and forced his eyes open despite seeing nothing but blinding white. His fists weakly clenched, and between his fingers was a soft fabric. A blanket...a bed. He was in a bed.

No...no more…

"M-Master…? _Don't_…"

He heard the footsteps again, more clearly, but in the opposite direction. Backing away from him? The Man would never do that…it had to be a trick...

And then he heard, "No. No, Spence, it's me. It's Jennifer."

Memories came crashing down. Reid's vision at last cleared enough that he could see more than just the lights above him. He briefly took in his surroundings, and recognized it to be a hospital room.

Could it really be true? Could what he thought had been a dream...really have happened? Was he…safe?

He whimpered, and a hand settled into his own, squeezing. "Ssh, you're okay. It's just me. You're safe. You're awake...you're okay. Oh, we were so worried…"

Reid noticed her last, despite her standing right beside him. Her hair was down, and falling into her face, but he could tell she was crying despite it. He held her hand very tightly, and she looked at him with tearful eyes, managing a smile. "Spence…"

Safe, Reid thought, starting to tremble, and then to cry, loudly, which only made JJ's heart break even further. "Oh, Spence..."

"Daniel," he finally managed to choke out. "Please?"

"He's okay! He's down the hall. He's okay. Spence, we found his parents! They're on the next flight here…and your mom...she knows you're safe, too..."

Reid weakly smiled, and then cried harder, and JJ squeezed his hand. "It's okay. It's okay…" She continued to try and soothe him, but Reid was distracted now. He was comfortable...he could breathe normally...there was nothing around his neck. His hand went up to grasp for the collar that was no longer there, and he momentarily panicked. Master was going to be upset—wait—no...no, he was dead! ...Wasn't he?

"Did...I...Master?" Reid mumbled, and JJ was the one who flinched this time.

"His name is Wyatt," she said, almost sternly, and Reid shrank back, pulling his blanket up further.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't...Reid, you should rest."

Reid blinked, and then frowned. "I…"

The door opened before he could try and continue, and it was Morgan who came in, looking first at JJ, and then at Reid. His solemn expression turned into relief, and he grinned. "Hey! Pretty—Reid! You're up!"

"...Him?"

Morgan's expression fell again. "JJ, I need to...talk to you, really quick."

JJ nodded, and squeezed Reid's hand once more before letting go. Reid flailed slightly—why wouldn't anyone answer him?

"Knock knock!" Garcia murmured, smiling as she peered her head into the room, and JJ went into the hall with Morgan as Garcia came in. Reid squirmed, fists clenched in the blanket again, and watched them through the window as Morgan murmured into JJ's ear, and as JJ's shoulders slumped. "What—what's—"

"Honey? What's wrong?"

"I...him! Dead?"

"I'm sorry...I don't know. I...haven't heard anything about him."

"_Please_…"

"Sweetness, it's okay...you've been through a lot...you just need to rest…"

JJ returned after a minute, without Morgan, who stayed in the hall, hands folded behind his head, faced the other way. JJ no longer looked as relieved, and when she looked at Reid, he slumped back, staring at the ceiling, and then closed his eyes.

"Jeremy Taylor never made it through surgery," JJ began.

"That's...that's good, right?" Garcia asked, and Reid had started to cry again, whimpering pitifully and bringing his hands up to his face, because he knew, somehow, he just _knew_, and then JJ took a breath and continued.

"Anderson...the bullet went clean through. He lost a lot of blood, but...they...they expect him to pull through."

Reid opened his eyes, and then started to groan. "Head...my head...please...please! My head!"

"Nurse," Garcia called, worriedly, and JJ went over to take Reid's hand again. "Spence—"

Reid pulled away. "No. No! Please! Hurts!"

A nurse came in moments later, followed by Morgan, worriedly. "Reid, hold on, you know we're not gonna let him—"

Reid cut them off with a loud, choked sob, and shook his head. He had failed the only thing that mattered—he didn't want to hear what they had to say—he wanted to _die_—he wanted—

"Dr. Reid, what's hurting?" the nurse asked, and Reid looked up at her, desperately. "Everything. Head." He clutched at his stomach, crying out again. "Hurts so much. Please. _Please!_"

"Alright, hold on. You're on a prescription for hydromorphone. Give me just a moment." She pulled the door open and stepped out, at which point Reid went mostly quiet, sniffling. Hydromorphone? That would work just fine… "_Hurts_…"

"You're okay," JJ said, stroking a hand through his hair. "You're safe."

But he wasn't! He wasn't safe! The Man wasn't dead! He was alive, He was going to live, He was going to take Reid as soon as He was better and keep him forever this time! He'd failed! He'd known The Man would come back from any attempt on His life just fine! Reid had known! He wasn't meant to be free...he was meant for Him...oh, God, this had to be a dream, a bad, bad dream...he didn't want to live anymore if this was really happening...no, no, _no_...

The nurse returned, and Reid started whining again, being sure to get the most of what he wanted. And...God...did he want it. Anything. Anything at all. It wasn't exactly what he was craving, but it was close. It didn't matter. He needed it. He needed it more than anything.

She stuck the syringe into the tube connected to his IV, and—

_Richard pressed down, injecting the contents into Reid's arm—_

Almost immediately, Reid felt calmer, better, and relieved. "Yes…" he mumbled, eyes fluttering closed. "Better...thank you…"

He felt someone run their hand through his hair again, and he nuzzled the hand. Richard...he loved Richard...so kind...

"Sir...thank you…" he mumbled, and it wasn't missed by anyone in the room. He hummed gently, and smiled, and then he was asleep.


End file.
